


Arrow: Mastering a Legacy

by AlexiaBlackbriar13, arrow_through_my_writers_block, bowsmoakandarrow (bowtiedarling), felicityollies, imusuallyobsessed, MachaSWicket, OlicitySmoaky, OlicityWritersRoom, smkkbert



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Family Dynamics, New Team Arrow, Original Team Arrow, alternative season 6, please heed chapter-specific content warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 193,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtiedarling/pseuds/bowsmoakandarrow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicityollies/pseuds/felicityollies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/imusuallyobsessed/pseuds/imusuallyobsessed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlicitySmoaky/pseuds/OlicitySmoaky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlicityWritersRoom/pseuds/OlicityWritersRoom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smkkbert/pseuds/smkkbert
Summary: The project:  a fourteen-chapter alternative season six featuring romance, family, OTA, the expanded team, the expected Star City chaos, and a few new villains.The writers:- bowsmoakandarrow (bowtiedarling)- OlicitySmoaky- arrow_through_my_writers_block- MachaSWicket- ImUsuallyObsessed- felicityollies- AlexiaBlackbriar13- smkkbert.(Writers listed in order of their first "episode" appearance.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, bowsmoakandarrow, for suggesting the idea! 
> 
> And thank you to our writers, consultants, editors, artists, and soon-to-be cheerleaders! 
> 
> See you in September!

 

artwork credit: [Sara](http://gothsmoak.tumblr.com/).


	2. 1. Eye of the Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: bowsmoakandarrow

The thick smoke swirls through the air as the flames lick and nip at the trees and rocks surrounding him. Oliver Queen stares at the scene around him and thinks if the island wasn’t named ‘Purgatory’ before, then it certainly would be now. He pulls William closer to his chest and tries to shield him from the sight before them. The boat gingerly runs aground onto the rocky shore, and Oliver carefully climbs off before he helps William step down.

Despite the clear air that immediately surrounds them, the thick smoke penetrates his lungs and burns; he shoves William behind him and tries to protect him from more than just the brutal air. He stands motionless for a few seconds and listens intently for any sign from his team, knowing full well the comms are already dead. He doesn’t know if anyone made it off before the trigger was pulled, or even where to start looking if they didn’t.

“Are they all dead? Where’s Mom?”

Oliver opens his eyes and whips his head around at William’s voice. The boy looks terrified, and Oliver isn’t quite sure what to say. “I don’t know, buddy. It looks pretty bad. I’m going to go see what I can find, so I need you to stay here.”

William shakes his head violently back and forth and grabs at his arm. “No, I’m coming with you. Don’t leave me alone.”

Oliver’s strength starts to buckle at his pleas, and he kneels down to William’s level and gently grasps the boy’s arms. “Hey, listen, I know you’re scared right now. I am, too. The bad man can’t hurt you anymore, so I need you to be brave and stay here while I go look for everyone. I can’t lose you while I search, okay?”

“But I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.”

“I know, buddy, and I promise I’ll be as fast as I can, but I need you safe.” Oliver glances back at the boat and realizes leaving him with a dead Adrian Chase won’t work. He scans the area and finds a rock formation that is completely untouched. “Hey, look, see those rocks? I want you to stay there until I come back for you, okay? When I find everyone, I’ll send them there to meet you, okay?”

William glances back hesitantly at the rocks and nods his agreement. Oliver walks steadily behind him while he watches for movement around them. The young boy settles onto the rocks and Oliver places his hand on William’s shoulder before he turns and walks back to where he last thinks they were.

“Dad?”

Oliver halts his movements and tries to bite back the rush of emotion that’s threatening to bubble to the surface. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and turns back around. “Yeah?”

“You’re going to come back, right?”

The words are like a knife to his heart and it makes him angry that they even have to go through this. “Of course. I’ll always come back.”

William seems content with that answer and Oliver turns and starts to make his way back, focusing on finding everybody. The airplane he sees towards the side won’t help them out - he knows that much. Considering that had been their escape plan, he thinks that they must have been in the area when the bombs were triggered.

The mix of sand, rocks, and gravel crunch beneath his boots, the sound a sharp disruption in the deathly silence of this wasteland, as he walks further down towards the path by the plane. He pauses and listens again and hears a faint groan to his right. He quietly moves in that direction, hands ready to grab his bow, just in case Chase had more contingency plans he doesn’t know about. “Hello? Who’s there?”

The leaves on the bushes rustle and a louder groan echoes through the air, followed by a familiar voice. “Oliver?”

“Digg?” Oliver rushes forward to find Diggle lying on the charred ground, scrapes and deep cuts all along his right arm and torso. “Where are you hurt?”

The older man tries to sit up and Oliver quickly helps him. “Where’s everyone else?”

“I don’t know, Digg. I need you to tell me what happened and where you’re hurt.”

John Diggle carefully moves his legs and does a quick inventory of his injuries. “I think I probably have some shrapnel in my arm and my chest, but I think that’s it. Man, help me up.”

Oliver carefully maneuvers the former Army man up onto his feet and tries to assess his injuries. “It doesn’t look that bad, but I can’t tell without medical supplies.”

John snorts and groans as he steps forward. “I don’t like this. Where’s everyone else?”

Oliver follows him towards the path and scans the area for signs of his team. “I don’t know. Chase is dead, William is okay, and you’re the first one I found.”

Digg runs a hand over his face and winces as Oliver pokes at the large gash on his arm. “Felicity was behind me when we were running out. Samantha went back to find William, so Thea ran after her. I think Dinah and Lance were towards the other side of the island.”

Oliver swears at that and glances towards the unforgiving forest…or what is left of it. “She went back? Digg—”

“I know, Oliver. The whole damn place looks like the apocalypse.”

Oliver doesn’t think anyone could have survived the blasts he saw but doesn’t allow himself to go there yet. “Okay, I’m going to look for the others,” he tells his best friend. “Go check on William, then see if you can find Lance, Dinah, Rene, and Curtis. We’ll meet back at the boat.”

Digg nods and heads towards the beach as Oliver turns back towards the burning forest. The smoky air is starting to take over everything and his lungs are on fire. He walks straight towards the flames, trying to ignore the unbearable heat and thick smoke that gets worse the closer he gets. Before he can get too far, a violent cough and a flash of blonde hair to his right stop him dead in his tracks. His burning eyes try to focus on the figure. Could it be? “Felicity?”

She leans heavily against an unscathed tree, taking in huge gulps of relatively fresh air, and Oliver isn’t sure he’s ever seen a sight so amazing. It doesn’t matter that her hair is tangled and matted in some areas or that there’s debris tucked into the golden strands, or that her jacket is torn to shreds. It doesn’t matter because she’s alive and standing in front of him, staring back with wide eyes. Before he can fully register her condition, he’s slammed backwards and suddenly has his arms full of the blonde.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re okay.” He feels her grip tighten around him as he tries to pry her away and soon realizes that there’s no point. “Hey, we’re fine,” he assures her again, “but I need to know if you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

She sniffles and steps back from him and he can finally see the shredded clothes, the gash right below her hairline, and the scrapes and angry bruises that are already forming on her delicate skin. “I’m fine, I think. Nothing hurts badly. Just sore. Everywhere.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She follows his line of sight and reaches up to feel her forehead, confused when her hand comes back covered in the red substance. “Oh. I don’t even know how that happened.”

Oliver watches her movements and can’t decide if she’s in shock or genuinely fine, but he won’t take any chances. “Okay, you remember where the plane was? If you walk the opposite direction you’ll see William out there. Go wait with him while I search for everyone else, and please find something to put pressure on that cut.”

“William’s there?” Her eyes light up with relief. “Wait, you left him alone? On an island crawling with Chase and his minions?!?”

“Chase is dead, Felicity. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“And the minions?”

Oliver stays silent, not knowing how to respond, and Felicity rolls her eyes and gently slaps his arm.

“Oliver, what were you thinking? Go find everyone! I’ll go, make sure he’s safe.”

Before he can utter anything, she’s on her way towards the beach and he turns and looks at the fiery inferno in front of him. He doesn’t even know where to start. His feet crunch through the dirt and broken branches as the crackle of flames pop in the air around him. He can’t imagine that anyone could make it out of here without damage of some kind, but he quickly weaves around the fallen tree trunks and ducks under the burning branches in search of survivors. He once knew this island like the back of his hand, but as he looks at all the devastation he can’t seem to make heads or tails of where he is.

“Hey, kid.”

Oliver whips around at the voice, ready to pounce, but relaxes slightly when he sees him. Despite everything that has transpired between them, he’s doing his best to trust Slade Wilson again.

“Whoa, it’s just me. We’d better hurry, though. Before this whole damn island goes to the bottom of the North China Sea.”

Oliver carefully walks through the embers and makes his way to Slade. “I found Digg and Felicity, but that’s all so far. They’re okay. Have you seen anyone?”

“Yeah, and you’re probably not gonna like it much, kid. Thea’s this way.”

Oliver’s heart stutters at the words, and he follows Slade right on his heels deeper into the devastated forest. Slade points just ahead of him but Oliver doesn’t need it; he already sees the motionless body up ahead on the forest floor. “No, no, no, no, no, Thea.” He sprints ahead and falls beside his motionless sister, running his hands carefully over her hair and face. “Damnit, Thea.”

“She’s still alive, Oliver. I think she’s just passed out from the pain.”

“Pain?” He rocks back on his haunches and takes a minute to survey his sister. While she has a lot of scrapes and cuts, it takes a minute for Oliver to register that her leg and arm are bent in a way that’s wholly unnatural. “Her leg looks like it’s shattered. Her arm’s broken, too.”

“Yeah, I saw that. That’s probably why she’s unconscious. That’ll get anyone, despite their tolerance for pain.”

Oliver nods and takes a deep breath before coughing, swirling the ashes in the air around them. “Okay, help me get her—“

Rustling leaves followed by a moan cuts his thoughts off as he peers back over his shoulder. He stands and guardedly walks towards the sound before feeling his heart drop down to his stomach. Crawling slowly on the ground towards him is Samantha Clayton. “No, Samantha.” He rushes towards her and falls to the ground just as she collapses. “Hey, Samantha, wake up! I’m right here.”

He carefully pulls her into his arms and as soon as he does he already knows what the outcome will be. He tries to ignore the intense burns on her legs and the blood pouring out from where her foot used to be. Her skin has already gone pale and all he can think is that she doesn’t deserve this.

“Will-William-is he alright? Tell me he’s al-al-alright—“

“He’s okay. He’s not hurt at all.”

Samantha coughs and nods slightly, and Oliver’s heart breaks as blood seeps out of the side of her mouth. All he can think is that there’s nothing he can do. “Oliver, promise me you’ll take care of him. Please.”

“Of course. I’ll always take care of him and keep him safe. I promise you.”

Her eyes show relief before they start to slip closed. “Tell him I love him.”

Oliver moves to respond but squeezes his eyes shut when he realizes she’s already gone. “I’m so sorry, Samantha.” He can’t help the tears trickling down his cheeks. He slowly takes his green jacket off, his armor, and carefully places it over her. He gently maneuvers her arms into it; he doesn’t think it’s right to leave her exposed to this horror.

“I’m sorry, kid, but we have to go now,” Slade’s voice rumbles behind him.

He glances back at Slade who, in the meantime, has fastened a splint along Thea’s leg and arm from the broken branches and supplies he has. His sister is now cradled in Slade’s sturdy form, or at least as much as she can be. Oliver takes one last look down at Samantha before he carefully zips the green jacket up behind her and gently lifts her body into his arms. He hopes that the backwards jacket might make it less traumatic for William, even though he knows from experience that nothing will really help.

The two men walk in silence through the apocalyptic scene with no noise except the crunch of the ground and the pops from the flames. The ground jolts quickly, and they pause before sharing a look — it’s all about to crumble. They hasten their steps, careful of the cargo in their arms, and Oliver is relieved when he sees all of his team standing together at the rocks with William.

Diggle is the first to spot the men returning. When Oliver meets his eyes, he knows that his brother understands what happened. Digg quickly moves to stand behind William in hopes of blocking his view for the moment. Oliver witnesses Felicity’s wide eyes and her quick glances with Digg and knows that Felicity will try to keep William distracted while Oliver makes his way to the boat.

Oliver quietly steps onto the boat and can’t help but narrow his eyes at Adrian Chase. At least, what is left of him. He walks to the other side and lays Samantha’s body down gently on the wooden floor at the back of the boat. Oliver signals for Slade to wait as he makes room for Thea that will accommodate the splint on her limbs. When he’s satisfied, he pads back over and helps Slade carefully place Thea down next to Samantha. There’s a space in the middle and Slade quickly sets his gear down, making it clear that he’ll keep watch over the two on the journey back. They both look over to the other side of the boat, where the body of Adrian Chase is slanted and half hanging over the side.

Oliver rolls his head back and tries to focus. “What are we going to do with him?”

Slade shrugs his shoulders and walks over behind Oliver. “Well, it seems like he’s a fan of boating and swimming. It would be a shame not to help him further.”

Oliver nods, too filled with exhaustion and pain to comment, and the two men hoist Chase up. With no second thought, they throw the man overboard into the cold water and allow nature to do the rest. Slade quietly pads back to the space between the two women and moves his gear before he sits down, taking up his post for the rest of the journey. “I’ll keep watch while you get everyone else.”

Oliver nods a silent thanks and turns back to see his group of family huddling around each other. He doesn’t know what to say to William, how to tell him his mother isn’t coming back, but he hopes that his team will help him find the words.

********

Oliver swipes a hand across the foggy bathroom mirror as laughter floats through the loft and reaches him. He knows the past two months have been hard on William, and he’s glad that the boy has someone to make him laugh. He can’t help but be a little jealous, though, that he’s not the one that has that connection with his son.

When he received sole custody after Samantha died, he immediately called Raisa in a panic. He had no idea how to take care of a kid; especially one with the traumatizing experiences that William had over the past few months. Raisa immediately came to Oliver’s aid and, just like she had with Oliver as a child, won her way into William’s heart and helped him grieve and cope. Yes, he was grateful, but he was also frustrated at his lack of ability to do the same.

He can’t even draw from his own experience at that age because, well, he was very different at that age than his son is. He wonders, not for the first time, if he’s really cut out for this single parenting thing.

Walking to the closet, he does the same thing he always does ever since they came home: he tries to think of different ways to get William to open up to him. He grabs a dark gray suit with a tie that Felicity bought him and quickly throws it on.

“Mr. Oliver! Breakfast is ready!”

He snaps out of his thoughts and toes his shoes on as he swiftly makes a knot in his tie. He swipes his phone off the dresser and pads down the hallway towards the kitchen, noticing that the door to his son’s room is open but dark inside. He rounds the corner to where the smell of eggs and toast are wafting through the air and finds Raisa in the kitchen alone. “This smells amazing, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr. Oliver.” Raisa gently places a cup of coffee in front of him as he sits at the bar to eat.

“Where’s William?”

“Oh, he left for his summer make-up classes already. He took breakfast with him to eat.”

Oliver sighs and his shoulders sag at the news. “Am I really that bad of a person? That he won’t even sit and eat breakfast in the same room as me?”

Raisa gently places a hand on his forearm and waits patiently until he’s ready to look up. “It’ll take time, Mr. Oliver. He’s had something very bad happen to his family and he still doesn’t know who to trust. Just keep trying.”

“Even if he won’t be in the same room as me?”

Raisa shrugs her shoulders and places the pans from breakfast in the sink. “He’s like his father. Pig-headed.”

Oliver laughs at that and takes the last bite of food before he pushes his plate away. “I feel like I should be more offended by that.” He sees the smile on her face and takes a few more sips of coffee before placing the mug back on the counter. “I’ll do my best to get home on time tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Oliver. We’re fine.”

He nods and pockets his wallet and keys before he heads out the door and down to the car waiting to take him to the office. He greets the driver as he always does, though he’s less familiar with this man than some of the others, and climbs into the backseat of the town car.

Oliver waits for the driver to shut his own door before speaking. “Can we make a stop this morning on the way in, please?”

“Of course, Mr. Queen. Where would you like to go?”

********

Despite the pale blue with the stark white trim on the walls and gray and white specked tiling in this wing, it actually feels warm and comforting. Oliver makes the familiar trek down the long hallway and nods politely at the nurses that pass by. They’ve all become used to seeing him walk the hallway, and he gets no second glance when he continues towards his destination. As he turns the corner towards her room, he wonders how many more times he’ll have to see these walls.

He hears voices filtering out of the room and picks up the paces of his steps. Passing through the open door, he sighs in relief while the machines continue to beep and buzz through the air. The nurse looks up when he arrives and greets him warmly, just as she has all the other times. “How’s she doing?”

The nurse gives him a small smile and goes on fussing with the machines. “Well, the doctor is going to come talk to you, but she’s doing pretty well.”

“I’m right here, you know. No need to talk around me.”

Oliver grins at his little sister pouting back at him; she’d perfected that pout very early on in their lives. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to do my brotherly duties of irritating you while you’re immobile. Who am I to pass up an opportunity like that?”

Thea groans and rolls her head across the pillow to see the nurse. “Do you see why I’d rather stay here? In the hospital? Instead of being released to that?”

The nurse just shakes her head at their usual antics and Oliver takes it as a good sign that his sister is slowly getting back to herself. “So, how’s everything going?”

“Since you asked yesterday? Not much.”

“Well, now, that’s just not the case is it, Thea?” The tall doctor that’s been taking care of his sister waltzes into the room and Oliver immediately feels his body tense at the sound of his voice.

“Of course you had to come in now. Why can’t I catch a break today?”

“Speedy,” Oliver admonishes her flippant tone.

“No, it’s quite alright, Mr. Queen. Being stuck in a hospital room for two months can make even the nicest of people go mad.”

“Yes, except that was her choice, not mine.”

“Give it a rest, Ollie,” his sister groans, giving him her signature eye roll.

“Well, it looks like that might be coming to an end soon.” The doctor flips through the chart, looking at his notes before he snaps the folder shut. “From all the x-rays and tests, it looks like your leg is healing well. Much faster than anticipated, actually. I would imagine that in about two weeks you’ll be able to move around with only a little help.”

Thea sighs and glances up at the ceiling before her eyes settle back on the doctor. “So, no hope of living by myself, right?”

The doctor shakes his head at her. “Unfortunately, no. You won’t be able to be completely self-sufficient for a few weeks.”

“Thank you, doctor, but Thea has a place to stay. It has one level and an extra room, so no need to worry about that.”

“No, Thea does not have a room in said place. Thea will find another place of her own.” The small brunette shoots daggers at her brother before she turns her attention back to the doctor. “So, what’s my deadline?”

“Thea-“

“Ollie, either shut up or get out,” she stops him, sounding more annoyed than teasing. “What’s my timeline, Doc?”

The doctor, Oliver notes, is growing increasingly uncomfortable with their bickering and he can’t help but be a little happy about that. He listens as they discuss and make discharge plans for two weeks from now and, when the doctor leaves, Oliver swears he’s almost running. He turns towards Thea, who is back to sending daggers his way. “What?”

She crosses her arms and continues to glare at him. “We talked about this. I am absolutely not moving in with you when you have a son to take care of that, I can guarantee you, probably has more issues right now than you did when you came back the first time. I can take care of myself, and I will figure it out, and that is the end of the discussion. Do you hear me?”

“Thea, there’s plenty—”

“End. Of. Discussion.”

He knows better than to argue with her when she gets in one of her moods, so he lets it go for the time being. Instead, he tells her about the team and what everyone is up to. He knows he’s late for work, but these moments are for him just as much as they are for her.

********

“Please tell me there’s someone that needs to be hit somewhere in this city.” Oliver pushes past the half-open elevator doors and into the wide expanse of the bunker. He vaguely hears the sounds of sticks clanging together and the grunts echoing through the air, but he’s solely focused on Felicity having a target for him to take his frustrations out on. He stomps up the metal stairs but comes to a screeching halt as he realizes that her chair is sitting empty.

“She’s not here.”

He sighs and tries to hide his irritation at Rene’s statement. “Yes, thank you, I see that. Where did she go?”

“Getting some food for everyone, so no one will starve and get grumpy,” Felicity answers from the other entrance. “Clearly my timing was bad on that one.”

He whips around towards the sound of clicking heels, rushing over to help at the sight of the balancing act in her arms. Snatching the grease-soaked bags from her, he raises an eyebrow at the milkshakes in her hand. “Really? Two?”

Felicity pokes her tiny finger into his chest, and he swears it’s sharper than any of his arrows. “Hey, this is a judgment-free zone while I’m here, so either get on board or get out, because I’m going to drink both of these and it will be glorious.”

Oliver starts to back away carefully and catches Digg’s eye on the opposite side of the bunker. He motions with his head towards her then quietly moves towards the others. After six years, he’s finally learned when someone else needs to take the reins and ask the questions.

He glances back at the woman he loves and his best friend, already in deep discussion, and tries to ignore the sadness that’s threatening to overtake him. He misses the conversations he used to have with her. He leans against the railing on the opposite side of the platform and clasps his hands together, feeling like he’s failing at everything.

“She’ll be fine, Oliver. Don’t worry about it.”

Oliver’s head snaps up at the deep voice next to him and gives his friend a look that clearly does not echo the man’s attitude. “Really, Digg? Ever since we got back, it’s like the harder I try to talk to her, even about small things, the further away she gets. She seems to be fine with everyone else, though.”

Digg lets out a low breath before he props himself up against the railing next to his partner. “Well, she hasn’t said much to me, but I trust Felicity to ask for help if she needs it. It’s actually not just you, man. She’s been that way with me, too. She talks to Lyla though, so that’s something, right?”

“Guys, I have something.”

Oliver and Digg are the first ones there and the rest of the team quickly follow. There are seven red dots blinking on a city map and Felicity is typing furiously as her screens flash back and forth to various camera angles. “Felicity, what’s going on?”

“Hang on. I’m working on it.”

Oliver tries to push, but Digg immediately shoots him a look and he quickly thinks better of it. He watches as her fingers furiously strike keys in precise movements, flitting from screen to screen in a dance that he could watch forever, if she’d let him. “Got it. They were trying to distract us with multiple locations. Warehouse break-in, 15th and Jones. Seems to be quite a bit of movement.”

Oliver doesn’t hesitate, quickly moving across the large space to his suit while the others whirl around him in a flurry. Neither he nor the team wait for direction from Felicity; he knows as soon as they’re out the door she’ll be guiding them through the comms. When the team is geared up, Oliver hops on his bike and revs the engine to life as the others follow behind.

*******

Oliver moves silently across the rooftop to survey the movement around the building across the street. The giant warehouse seems to be quiet after the alarms that Felicity’s computers caught. Too quiet. “Overwatch, what do you see?”

He hears quick key striking in the background and waits patiently as he continues his perimeter search. “There’s a lot of movement on the second floor in the back right corner. There’s also a lot of heat signatures inside by the loading docks in the back.”

“Okay. Spartan, Terrific, you take the loading docks in the back. Wild Dog, Black Canary, head for the second floor and wait for my entry.”

“Copy that. Heading towards the docks now.”

The others acknowledge his order with a lowly mumbled ‘copy that’ as they get in position, giving him time to check in with Felicity to find the best point of entry. “Overwatch, what’s—“

“They’re all going to be difficult. My guess is the back right windows if you want to make a splashy entry, or the roof hatch at the back if you want to come in quietly.”

For some reason, the fact that she knew what he was going to ask sends a shock of happiness through his chest. Now is not the time, though, and he tucks that feeling away for a better moment. “Okay. Back right windows.” Oliver takes a moment to determine his start point before he begins jumping across buildings to get to his chosen spot. He pulls a grappling arrow out of his quiver and waits for his team to get in position. He can hear Felicity’s movements across her keyboard and the sound relaxes him, putting him in the right frame of mind.

“Okay, Green Arrow, in position and ready.”

“Okay. Black Canary, get ready to sing on my cue.” Oliver walks to the edge and nocks a grappling arrow, sends it flying through the night air, and lands it perfectly above his window of choice. He hooks his bow over the top of the rope and lets gravity do the rest. Halfway across, he gives his cue and the quiet night splits with a sonic cry. The glass breaks just as Oliver is a few feet from the window and he bursts through it easily. When his feet hit the ground, he immediately sees twelve men - eight to his left, four to his right. Wild Dog and Black Canary have their hands full with the others in the room, so it’s up to him to handle these guys. He quickly distracts the larger group of men with an explosive arrow by their feet and moves to make quick work of the four men to his right. A few arrows, a few punches, and they’re down for the count.

He spins towards the larger group and decides that arrows aren’t the best option. He flips the bow around and ducks the punch from the closest in the group. He kicks and digs his elbow into the man’s back and knocks him to the ground. Continuing his assault on the others, he makes his way through the group. As he brings the last man to the ground, he spots a guy in the far corner of the room running towards the stairs.

“Green Arrow, we have a runaway.”

“Yeah, I’m already on it.” Trusting that his teammates can handle their opponents, Oliver sprints towards the metal door the thug just disappeared through, finding himself in a staircase. He leans over the railing and spots a flash of movement two floors down that he immediately chases after, jumping over the railings. He reaches the bottom just as the heavy metal door starts to close and kicks it open with enough force to dent it. Spotting the runaway a few yards ahead, he immediately grabs an arrow and shoots at the man. The man trips and falls as the cords from the arrow wrap around his ankles. Oliver grabs the man and rolls him over before he nocks another arrow directly at his head. “Who are you?” His digitally manipulated voice echoes through the dark, making the man beneath him cower in fear.

“Don’t shoot me! I’m just trying to make a living for my family!”

Oliver nocks the arrow back further and raises his voice. “I won’t ask you again. WHO. ARE. YOU.”

The man flinches and shuts his eyes, but Oliver is steadfast.

“I’m nobody! I show up when they tell me, I help make deliveries, and they pay me in cash.”

“What’s in the boxes?”

“A weird liquid drug of some kind. That’s all I know; I was told not to ask questions, and I don’t wanna end up like my buddies.”

“Can he explain ‘liquid drug’ so I have something more to go on?” Felicity’s voice breaks through the comms.

“What kind of liquid drug?” Oliver asks, even though he doesn’t know if he can get anything else from this thug.

The guy on the ground is shaking now and it shows in his wavering voice. “I don’t know. It comes in some vial and it needs a special thing to inject it. I swear, that’s all I know!”

“Who is your employer?”

“I don’t know a name, I swear. I only know what he goes by: The Dragon.”

Oliver loosens his grip on the arrow and uses his bow to knock the man unconscious. “Felicity, we have a name.”

“I heard; I’m on it. The others are waiting for you. They came up with dead ends. Head back and I’ll start searching.”

Oliver growls at the news but heads back to where the team is waiting. He has a sinking feeling that the name isn’t going to give them anything.

******

The heavy metal elevator doors to the bunker open and Oliver is the first one out and heading towards the platform. He could tell by the quietness on the comms that Felicity wasn’t getting the kind of information she wanted and he was curious to see why. She was the best at hacking, and it worried him that she hadn’t already announced a breakthrough, or at least a promising lead, while they were on their way back to the Bunker.

From their conversations on the way home, he knew that Rene and Dinah hadn’t seen much either, just boxes of the drug and other distribution tools. Diggle had confirmed as much when they met back up; all they’d seen were men loading up the vans and moving boxes. Whatever they were cooking up, Oliver was certain that it was being made and stored at a different facility.

He quickly strides to Felicity’s workstation, slowing only when he sees her pinching the bridge of her nose where her glasses usually reside. They’re now thrown on top of the keyboard. “Hey, you got anything?”

She groans and places her glasses back in their rightful place as the others come over to join them. “Nope. There are lots of mentions of ‘The Dragon’ but that’s all there is. Mentions. No one seems to know who or what this guy is, or where to find him, or what he does. I’m going to have to do way more digging to try to find out anything.”

Oliver sees the exhaustion on her face and glances over at Diggle, who nods in agreement. “Okay. Everyone, go home and get some rest. There probably won’t be any more info tonight. Felicity, can you set up searches to run?”

“For what? Ghost man known as ‘The Dragon’ with drug vials?” Her shoulders sag as soon as the words are out of her mouth and Oliver knows not to take it to heart. “I’m sorry. I get snappy when I’m tired.”

“I remember,” he mumbles quietly.

Her blonde hair whips around, but she quickly clears her throat and begins typing. “I’ll see what parameters I can set up. With any luck, something random will lead somewhere.”

“Good. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Oliver nods a silent goodbye to the others and heads to the bathroom to get out of his suit. Stepping into the shower, he lets the hot water run over him, allowing his skin to breathe. He knows he’s chickening out, but he doesn’t know if he has it in him to be ignored by his son again tonight. He takes longer than usual as his thoughts run wild and when he steps out he puts his business suit back on and packs his gear up to put away tomorrow. He opens the door as the steam billows out into the open air and chucks his bag of gear towards the mannequin they usually reside on.

“Seriously? You really aren’t going to put it back on the mannequin?”

Her voice surprises him, and he jumps, turning to see her still sitting at the computer. “I thought you went home. There’s nothing else to do about The Dragon tonight, Felicity,” he says with a sigh. “Are you okay? You’ve been…not yourself, lately.”

“How’s William doing?”

Oliver knows she’s trying to get out of his inquiry, and he lets her because he’s not in the mood for a fight. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess not great, but that would mean he’d have to talk to me to tell me that.”

That catches her attention, and she spins around, focusing all her attention on him. “What do you mean? Everything was fine when you and I talked last. What’s the issue exactly? You said he hates you but that’s kind of vague and surely not true.”

“Well,” he moves to an empty chair across from her and rests his arms on his legs, “he won’t talk to me. Every time I try to talk to him, he either isn’t there, ignores me, or gives me two-word answers. He’s always in his room playing video games or on his phone, and whenever I try to get him interested in something, or see what interests him, he shuts off and won’t talk. I don’t know what to say that will get him to give me any sort of reaction, never mind something helpful.”

Felicity grabs her heels and slowly reaches down to put them on. “Well, some of that sounds like typical kid stuff. And you also have to remember that his mom died and he went through a major traumatic event a few weeks-sorry-months, ago. That’s enough to make anyone retreat.”

“How do I reach him, though? How do I even get a reaction from him?”

“Honestly? Let him know you’re going to be there, whether he likes it or not. Right now, he needs to know that someone else isn’t going to just leave him, regardless of the reason. Let him know you aren’t going anywhere.”

Oliver sits back in his chair and thinks about what she said. Could that really be what this is about? Being there? He thought he had been clear about that, but maybe he hadn’t. “He has to know that I won’t leave him.”

“Well, what did you do?” she questions softly. “Did you move him into your apartment, give him is own room, his own stuff, and then act like everything is normal? Like nothing happened? That won’t work, Oliver. That never works. And I think you should know that by now.”

Oliver runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath as he stands. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try a different approach. I swear, I thought he knew. Thank you, Felicity. I appreciate it.”

“I know you do. I think sometimes you need someone to get you out of your own brain, so you can get answers.”

He chuckles at that — she’s completely right, as always — and waits patiently while she shuts everything but the searches down. He’s still worried about her, but she’s right; one problem at a time.

*******

Oliver quietly slides the key in the lock and gently pushes the heavy door open. He knows that Raisa is probably awake, but he didn’t want to make a lot of noise, just in case. Sure enough, the television is on, though muted, and Raisa is awake and curled up on the sofa with a blanket tossed over her legs. “Sorry, I’m late again, Raisa. It’s a bad habit.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Oliver, but don’t pretend you’re sorry when you aren’t.” Raisa throws the blanket off her legs and gracefully stands. He gapes as he watches her fold it neatly over the back of the sofa and turn back towards him. “What is that look for?”

“Well, I don’t, I mean…”

“What, you think I don’t know how you spend your nights?”

Oliver straightens his spine and squares his shoulders. “Raisa, I don’t know what you think you know, but—”

Raisa scoffs and rolls her eyes at him as she walks over to snatch her purse off the kitchen counter. “Please, Mr. Oliver. She does not deserve to be treated like a secret.”

“She?”

“Just tell Ms. Felicity that I expect to see her over here sooner rather than later.” Raisa breezes past him with a goodbye and Oliver is more confused now than he was five minutes ago.

He shakes his head and drops his keys on the console table by the door before he quietly pads past William’s room. He can’t hear anything, so he continues to his own room, loosening his tie and the top few buttons. He’s wandering into his bathroom when he hears the low cries. He immediately turns and bounds down the hallway to William’s room. The boy isn’t thrashing yet, but Oliver knows it’s just a matter of time. This isn’t the first nightmare William has had the past few months and it probably won’t be the last.

Oliver rushes over to the far side of the bed just as William starts yelling and thrashing. “William, wake up, you’re dreaming.” Oliver gently shakes him but it doesn’t jar him from the dream. “William, buddy, wake up.” He gives William a sharp shake on his shoulder and William bolts upright and snaps his eyes open. Oliver tries not to be hurt when William crawls to the other side of the bed. “Hey, it’s okay, you were having a nightmare.”

William brings his knees to his chest and wraps his long arms around them before dropping his head on top. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize.” Oliver gestures to the bed and the boy doesn’t complain when he sits on the edge, which he silently takes the win. “I used to get nightmares a lot. I still do, though not as bad as they used to be. None of it is your fault. Do you want to talk about them? It might help.” William shakes his head violently and Oliver backtracks. “Okay, you don’t have to. I’m here if you ever want to talk about them, okay?” He swears he hears William scoff at that and he takes a deep breath before saying what he’d been practicing on his bike on the way home. “Listen, I know we don’t really know each other. I know you’ve been through a lot the past few months and I really wish I could change all those bad experiences. I do. I’ve never done this, and I know I’m probably screwing up, and I will continue to make mistakes. I’m your father, your family; you don’t have to like it, but I’m always going to be here and I’ll always do what’s best for you. I know I probably haven’t shown it, but I’ll always do everything I can to come back to you. No matter what. Okay?”

William nods and raises his head to look at Oliver. “I miss my mom.”

Oliver’s heart breaks and he swears in that moment he’s never been so happy that Adrian Chase is dead at the bottom of the sea. “I know, buddy. I don’t really know what to do or how to help. What did your mom do?”

He sniffles and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. When I was little, she’d talk about happy stuff. She used to just sit with me until I fell back asleep.”

Oliver nodded and tried to think of a good approach. “Well, I know I’m not your mom, but do you want me to sit on the other side? Just until you fall asleep?”

William bites his lip and gives him a slight nod before scooting over to give Oliver room. He toes his shoes off and carefully climbs on top of the covers as William scoots down to get comfortable. It’s a small win, but Oliver will take anything he can get.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He almost forgets to speak from the emotion crowding his chest. “Anytime, buddy.”

*******

“Absolutely not. This is something I campaigned on and I am determined to see it come to fruition. Let’s go back to the drawing board and see what we can do to make it happen.” Oliver stands his ground firmly with the two councilmen in the room and they finally nod their thanks before leaving the room. He’s had the same argument twice with them already and he refuses to have it again. He brings his computer out of sleep mode and is just looking at the two hundred email count when his phone begins to ring with his assistant’s name on the caller ID. “Yes, Sarah?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but Mr. Diggle and Ms. Smoak are here without an appointment.”

Oliver rolls his eyes and tells her to send them in. He’s told her a million times that they’re allowed in whenever, and yet she calls and asks every time. The door to his office swings open and a brightly colored Felicity waltzes in holding her tablet. He’s never known anyone that can pull off a yellow color that bright, and yet here she is, like his own ray of sunshine. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“We tried calling you, but you weren’t answering your phone and we’re on a bit of a time crunch.”

He tries to ask why but a tablet is placed on the desk in front of him.

“I found this today.”

Oliver studies the screen but the blueprints don’t look familiar to him. “Okay. What is ‘this’ exactly?”

“Well, ‘this’ is a set of blueprints to a warehouse on the edge of the city. I found them while hunting for info on ‘The Dragon’. It was on one of his known associates’ computers.”

Diggle steps forward towards the two. “Oliver, we think they’ll be there tonight. There’s a chance that this Dragon guy might show up.”

Oliver nods and looks at the blueprints again. “Okay, then. We go. What else did you find?”

“No, ‘we’ won’t go anywhere. You have a meeting until later tonight, so the team will go in and I’ll update you when I know something.”

Oliver looks up at Felicity with an incredulous look on his face. “When did you become in charge of the team?”

Diggle snorts and crosses his arms. “Man, where the hell have you been the past six years?”

Felicity is grinning when he looks up at her and he easily caves. “Okay. Take the team and see what you can find. Just be careful. Did you find anything else?”

“All I’ve been able to find so far is some of his associates, and they’re into all kinds of different things, which makes me think that drugs aren’t the only thing he’s into. Hopefully we’ll know more after tonight.”

Oliver nods and his eyes shift towards the computer screen where an alert is coming up from his email. “I have a conference call in a few minutes. Text me so I know what’s going on. I’ll make sure to have my phone with me.”

Felicity nods, as does Diggle, and she collects her tablet. “Don’t worry. The team can handle it without you.”

“Oh, I know they can. I just don’t want them to.”

Diggle rolls his eyes and mutters something that Oliver can’t quite hear. He narrows his gaze at the former military man. “Okay. I’ll see you both later.”

Felicity waves as the two walk out and Oliver runs his hands over his face. He wishes that he didn’t have that meeting tonight; there’s no telling what they’re walking into.

*******

Oliver checks his phone again as he closes the front door, but sees no text from Felicity. He sends his third one of the evening, asking for an update, before he pockets it and tosses his keys on the console. He walks into the living room to see William and Raisa on the couch, watching a movie. “Hello.”

William glances up from the TV and mutters a ‘hi’ before turning his attention back to the screen. Raisa smiles and motions for him to sit across the other end of the sofa. “Come watch with us, Mr. Oliver.”

Oliver glances wearily at William but takes his spot on the sofa. “What are we watching?”

“X-Men.”

Oliver looks over at William, who gives no indication of elaborating. “Cool. I’ve never seen it.” The trio sits in silence and Oliver tries to follow the plot since the other two seem engrossed in it. Fifteen minutes into where he started, he’s confused and, quite frankly, it irritates him how superheroes with powers are being portrayed. “So, what exactly is going on in the movie?”

“Well, if you had seen it from the beginning, you’d know.”

Oliver is taken aback with his son’s attitude, but a quick look at Raisa tells him to drop it. He continues watching and trying to understand, but he knows it’s a lost cause at this point; he’ll just try to enjoy the rest of it and ask Felicity about it tomorrow. A few minutes later, however, they’re all interrupted by Oliver’s phone ringing.

William rolls his eyes and swipes his phone off the couch as he turns to Raisa. “I’m going to do homework.”

She nods and Oliver watches his son stomp off down the hall to his room. The phone in his hand is still ringing and one glance tells him it’s important. “Let me answer this, then I’ll deal with that.” Raisa nods again and takes the empty dessert plates off the coffee table to the kitchen. Oliver swipes his thumb across the small glass screen, hoping for an update. “How’d it go?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m on my way over to your house. If that’s okay. Which, if it’s not, is totally fine. I can always tell you tomorrow.”

“It’s fine, Felicity. About how long?”

“Ummm, five minutes?”

Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose and glances at the bedroom with the door closed. “Okay, see you then.” He ends the call and wanders to where Raisa is washing dishes in the kitchen. “You don’t have to do that, Raisa.”

She scoffs and reaches for the towel on the side of the counter. She tosses it towards his chest with a very pointed look. “If I don’t, who will?”

Oliver palms the towel for a few seconds before carefully picking up a clean dish and drying it. “I thought that maybe we would get along better after the nightmare he had last night. He had asked me to sit with him until he fell asleep, which I did, then I fell asleep myself for a little bit. I just, I don’t know, I thought it would be better.”

Raisa places the last dish down and lets the water swirl in the sink before shutting off the tap. “He’s a teenager, Oliver. Don’t you remember how moody teenagers are?”

“I was never moody.”

“Mmmhmm. It will not happen overnight. He needs trust and someone to depend on, and he misses his mother. He will eventually come around.” Raisa glances around the kitchen and peeks over the bar to make sure she’s got everything from the living room. “Okay, I head out now. Just be patient. He will come to you.” She pats his arm gently and snatches her bag as she pads to the door. She turns the knob and is met by Felicity Smoak with an arm raised to knock. “Miss Felicity!”

“Hi, Raisa, how are you?” The blonde smiles widely and greets her with a hug, something the two have done frequently, though Oliver isn’t sure when that started.

“I’m fine, dear, but you are too skinny. You must join us for dinner next time.”

She nods and waves goodbye before she turns back towards Oliver. “Hi. Sorry to drop by so late.”

“It’s okay, it’s not late.” He holds the door open to allow her to step into the loft and quietly shuts it behind her. “So, how did everything go tonight?”

She sighs and leans against the back of the sofa. “Well, we must have just missed them, because they were cleared out by the time we got there. Everything was wiped clean; there wasn’t a fingerprint or hair or anything. The only thing that was left was a painting of a dragon on one of the walls.”

Oliver shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest. “How can we not find anything on him? There has to be something.”

“Believe me, Oliver, I’m trying everything I possibly can.”

“No, I know, I didn’t mean to say—“ A thud disturbs them and seconds later William walks out to the kitchen, looking frustrated and tired. Oliver watches as Felicity straightens herself and William halts his steps when he realizes she’s there. Oliver looks quickly between the two and tries to break the awkwardness. “I thought you were working on homework?”

William huffs, but thankfully Oliver doesn’t get an eye roll accompanied with it. “I am. I just need to not look at that stupid problem for five minutes.”

“What kind of problem?”

William grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and chugs half of it down. “Math. Nothing you can help with.”

Oliver knows he can’t help but is still slightly offended. Before he can even respond, Felicity jumps in.

“Oooh, math? What kind of math?”

Oliver rolls his eyes and loosens the tie he’s wearing as the two start babbling about x’s and y’s. Felicity turns back and points towards William’s room before following him and Oliver can’t help but be grateful. Math is just one more thing to drive a wedge between him and William, and Oliver hopes that Felicity can somehow work her magic, as she always does.

********

If someone had told Dinah Drake a few years ago that she would be kicking ass in a team as a masked vigilante, she would have laughed and punched them in the face. Yet here she is, pulling on the leather that others have worn before her, and she feels lucky that she’s the one that gets to do this every night.

She grabs her bo staff from the case and heads out towards the large glass conference table. The heels of her boots hit the floor silently and she’s thankful, not for the first time, that she changed the boots she wears nightly. She’s sure she’s the last one to get ready and meet up with the rest of the team; it’s a hazard of all the buckles. When she moves past the weapons corner, however, motion catches her eye and she peeks over. John Diggle, who is almost always the first one ready, is over in the dark corner. She watches as he flexes his right hand then shakes it; almost as if it’s asleep and he’s trying to wake it up. She sees him hold it out flat but his hand trembles and she immediately knows that he’s not as okay after the island as he says he is. The team calls out for them and she scurries along, keeping the information in the back of her mind. She’ll talk to him after they find this guy.

********

The air system roars throughout the empty warehouse as the team slowly moves through the large space. Despite the noisy circulation in the three-floor building, the air is thick and musty. Oliver and Digg move carefully through the first floor of the warehouse, checking for any signs of their target. The expansive space is stacked with crates and boxes and he hopes Felicity can use some of her tech to see what might be in them. Under every other circumstance, he would already be over there prying them open; the fact that the warehouse is empty has him on edge, though. “Overwatch, any idea what’s in those crates?”

He hears her typing furiously through the comm and takes the few seconds to do another scan around the area. Something seems off. “I’m not picking up heat signatures or, well, really anything. They look empty.”

Oliver switches his bow to the other hand and unconsciously rubs his thumb and forefinger together.

“What are you thinking?”

Oliver looks around the room one more time before he turns to answer Digg’s question. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. Are we sure this is the place?”

Felicity’s voice floats through the comms. “This is what the intel said. Let me look—wait—something might be happening. Hold on.”

“Overwatch—”

“I said hold on, Green Arrow.” More typing filters through the comms and Oliver doesn’t like silence. “SCPD is responding to an incident at another warehouse, but it didn’t come through on my alerts.”

“Where?”

“On 13th and—wait, on your left. I’m getting a heat signature.”

Oliver and Digg both turn simultaneously, but see nothing. “Overwatch, there’s nothing there—”

The ground shakes as an explosion rattles the center of the building. Oliver finds himself thrown against the wall from the force of it and dust particles float through the air, making him cough. He spots Diggle across the room and immediately realizes he should have followed his gut. This was just a distraction to keep the team away.

“Green Arrow? Green Arrow!”

Felicity’s voice through the comms forces him to speak. “I’m okay,” he coughs and groans as he stands. There’s a hole in the middle of the warehouse floor and before he can see anything else his team comes barreling in through the stairway.

Dinah has her bo staff ready, but lowers it when she sees the stance of her teammates. “You both okay?”

Oliver coughs and holds his hand up in assurance as Digg walks towards her, brushing dust and cement particles off his jacket. “We’re fine. He wanted us here.”

A glimmer catches Oliver’s eye and he stalks towards the wall that it’s coming from. He hears his team calling out to him, but he ignores them to cross the room. He reaches the wall and finds a large knife thrust into the plaster with a piece of paper underneath it. He carefully removes the object and holds the paper in his other hand.

“What did you find?”

Oliver doesn’t hear Digg come up behind him and he tries not to startle. “A piece of paper and a knife. ‘Sorry to miss you.’ With a Dragon drawn on it.” He crumples the paper and shoves it in his jacket pocket. “Felicity? What about this SCPD thing?”

Felicity sighs on the other end of the comms. “Just come back to the bunker. It’s over. You should all just come back.”

The comm clicks off and Oliver can count on one hand the amount of times Felicity has switched it off without warning. He remembers vividly six years ago when she had the same somber tone in her voice. He shoots Diggle a look and they usher the others out and head back.

********

When Oliver and the team arrive back at the bunker Felicity is leaning over the railing with her glasses loosely hanging from her hand. He knows that whatever happened was bad and that’s why he doesn’t ask. He walks over and leans against the railing next to her and waits for her to be ready. He scans the team to implore that they not push either.

Felicity sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose before she stands with her arms crossed over her chest and turns around to face the group. “The warehouse tonight was a distraction. I have no idea how The Dragon knew we were looking for him, especially since we have no idea who he is, but he intentionally put the intel out about the warehouse.”

Diggle walks over to stand on the other side of her, even though Oliver can tell they both know where this is going. “What happened?”

Felicity sniffles and takes a second to regroup before continuing, “They were at a different warehouse and intentionally set off an alarm. I’m still not sure why we didn’t get it, but SCPD responded and walked into a trap. Four SCPD officers were killed, 3 wounded.”

Dinah’s cell phone begins ringing and she gingerly touches Felicity’s shoulder as she walks past her to answer it. Diggle pulls her into his side and lets her lean against him as the team slowly disperses.

Oliver waits until he catches Felicity’s eye to speak. “This isn’t your fault. This isn’t your tech’s fault either. Remember what I said before? Sometimes we lose. This is one of those times. It’s what we do.”

She nods and moves out of Digg’s arms and into Oliver’s. “I know. It doesn’t feel any better, though.”

Oliver wraps his arms around her and tucks her head under his chin. “I know. Let’s all go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll start over and figure out who this guy is, okay?”

The other two nod in agreement and Felicity shuts down her equipment quickly before Digg escorts her out. Oliver punches at the standing dummy as he walks by on his way to change; this guy is way too far ahead of them for his liking.

********

The sun that is pouring in through the windows in his office is doing nothing to help his mood. The events from the previous night don’t sit well with him and as a result he’s running on a lack of sleep. He rubs his eyes in hopes that the text on his screen would cease to be blurry so he can continue with his work. A gentle knock on the door has him sitting up straight and blinking the blurriness away.

“Your assistant isn’t at her desk. I figured I’d bring you this.” Felicity gestures at the mug in her hand as she steps into the room.

Oliver smiles genuinely for the first time that morning and motions to the mug. “Technically, that’s the third time you’ve brought me coffee.”

She rolls her eyes and sits opposite of him across the large mahogany desk. “The fact that you’re counting might be the saddest thing ever.”

He chuckles and reaches for the mug, thanking her as he takes a sip of the steaming liquid. “You have no idea how much I needed this. So, what’s going on?”

“Well,” Felicity begins as she reaches for her purse on the floor, “I woke up this morning really angry that this guy bested me. Criminals do not best me. So, I started doing some serious digging, hoping that something would lead back to him.” She pulls a file folder from her bag and hands it over. “It seems that he primarily deals in moving illegal weapons and narcotics, but, when I followed some of the trails, it seems like that’s just the cover for a more experimental drug. I don’t know what the drug is yet, only that it’s in that phase, but it’s supposed to be some sort of miracle worker for the human body.”

Oliver sighs and tosses the folder on the desk. “Are we dealing with another type of Mirakuru?”

“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head as she grabs the file and gently tucks it back in her purse. “It’s not a super human strength thing, but I’m also not really sure what it is. I’m running more searches and have some inquiries out, so, hopefully, we’ll hear something soon.”

Oliver nods and before he can respond there’s a knock on the door and his assistant marches in with a package. She places the padded envelope on the desk and begins to walk away, but suddenly spins back around. “Also, Mr. Queen, Mr. Lance wanted me to remind you that he won’t be here until this afternoon, so you’ll need to take his meeting at 10am.”

“Thank you for reminding me.” Oliver waits until the door is shut before turning to Felicity to explain. “Thea was discharged from the hospital last night.”

Felicity’s face lights up with a smile at the news. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Where is she staying, though?”

Oliver groans and rolls his eyes. “With Quentin Lance. Apparently, my life with William was too important for her to crash.”

“Well, even if I don’t agree with that, I can understand what she probably meant to say.”

“Really? I don’t, at all.”

Felicity shakes her head and reaches for her purse. “That’s because you’re her brother. It’s a family thing with you. In any case, I think it’ll be good for them.” Oliver raises an eyebrow at that and she stands up getting ready to leave. “No, really, he’s still dealing with the loss of Laurel, and Thea’s always been in tune with him. She kind of took up the mantle with him when Sara left. They’ll keep each other on the straight and narrow, so to speak.”

That wasn’t something that Oliver had thought of when he was trying to find every possible way to not have that happen. “Well, hopefully you’re right on that.” Oliver stands and walks around the desk to escort Felicity out. They say their goodbyes and he shuts the heavy door behind her.

The package on the corner of his desk catches his eye and the front has the word ‘Urgent’ scribbled across it. He works on opening the sealed top and holds the envelope upside down over his desk.

His heart drops and his breath is knocked out as one of Prometheus’ throwing stars tumbles out and onto his desk.


	3. Take Me Out to the Ball Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrow: Mastering a Legacy, "Episode 2"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Olicity Smoaky 
> 
> Beta'd by TinaDay3W
> 
> Note: Hey readers, the Queen mansion exists in this. It was canon for 2.5 but in the Arrow Wiki it doesn't state that it is canon for the show fully though it may be. I went with that for my episode.

As the day fades into twilight, Oliver sits at his desk thumbing the edges of the throwing star. _This has to be a copycat._ He promises himself to take it to Felicity to be analyzed later. He’s been in protective mode about so much lately but keeping things from her made his gut churn and twist like nothing else. As Oliver folds the throwing star back in the small black cloth he’s keeping it in, his eyes catch the latest photo on his desk. It’s of him and William outside of the Star City Planetarium with Thea. Next to it is a pair of Star City Rocket tickets. The season is almost over, and he promised William he’d take him to a game. Oliver swallows. His family can’t be threatened again.

Pinching his lips together to press down his worry, Oliver pulls open his desk drawer, slides the throwing star back inside, then pulls out of his phone. The corners of his mouth tick up as he scrolls through more photos of his summer with his son until he stops at one of him chatting with Felicity Thea took at the Bunker. Thea is very much on board with them getting back together, but Oliver is trying to keep it somewhat light right now. Well, if you can call somewhat light looking into reacquiring the Queen Estate for a possible future home from Palmer Tech—who’d recently bought the property—in a brief moment of insanity. Of course, he decided against the idea almost as soon as he’d had it. He’s determined to look forward not back. Also, Felicity seems to be in a better space with her anxiety post-Island. He now knows it has everything to do with wanting to do the right thing by William and not wanting to push too fast too soon. The island ripped them all up on the inside and being apart has really taken its toll. But he’s so incredibly grateful that she’s stopped pushing him away now that the fall is upon them. He reminds himself again of their new mantra, one step at a time. He lets out a shaky breath. If it was only that easy.

A knock sounds on the door. “Oliver?”

“Come in, Quentin,” says Oliver as he pockets his phone and shifts his eyes to the door.

Quentin strides in, head in a file. “I, uh, wanted to—” He stops in his tracks as soon as he looks up and frowns. “Everything okay there, Oliver?”

Oliver clears his throat. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’ve got a frown deeper than the Grand Canyon.”

“Yeah.” Oliver presses his index finger into one eyelid and thumb into the other and blows out a sigh.

“Is it William or Felicity?” When Oliver does not reply, “Maybe both?”

Oliver drops his hand from his eyes and presses two fingers to his temple. “I should work on being less transparent.”

Quentin sinks into the comfortable guest chair across from Oliver’s desk. “Let’s see. It’s early September, so William’s starting school? And you’re starting to feel overwhelmed?”

Oliver leans forward on his arms, folding his fingers, resisting the temptation to drop his chin on his hands and really sulk. “He started yesterday. Thea took him. I don’t know if he hates the school or if he still hates me…pretty sure the latter is fully the case.”

“Oliver, the kid just lost his mother. And he’s what? 12? If he doesn’t say he hates you every once in a while, you’re doin’ something wrong. Take him to a ballgame. Do something fun with him.”

“Yeah.” He had tried all that, but William wasn’t very responsive to his efforts. He knew Quentin meant well, but what does he really know about dealing with a kid who’s a virtual stranger?

“And don’t forget. Felicity’s right there with you. Even if you two are—what exactly is it you guys are waiting for again?” Quentin lifts his thick eyebrows.

That’s a loaded question -- loaded and explosive and all sorts of things that wouldn’t let the clawing need for the woman he loves rest. “Well, William—”

“Is adjusting to his new life…and all that comes with it,” Quentin supplies. “That includes Felicity, right?”

“Yes. And they get along. She’s been going through some stuff, and--” Oliver breaks off, letting a tiny smile tug his lips. He clears his throat. “I just… It’s just… It’s not the right time.”

“You love that girl…”

“More than life itself,” Oliver fills in without hesitation. He lets the resolve of the statement wash over him, comfort him. He knows he loves Felicity more than he’s ever loved anyone. It’s not something he needs reassurance of, but bringing the notion to the surface, verbalizing it from time to time, provides a balm he needs to press forward on the days he continues to live without her. The priority right now has to be William. They both know that. And it isn’t as if Oliver regrets the gift that is his son. It’s just a different part of him that he has just switched on, and he’s so afraid he’s fucking up. He’s trying to do the right thing. But maybe having Felicity with only a toe in William’s life is the wrong thing for all parties involved. Oliver lets out a frustrated breath.

Quentin studies the young mayor for a beat before advising, “Just … try not to torture yourself too much. Being a father is hard, but you can’t lose yourself to it. You have to find balance. And you have to let them make their own mistakes.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know. Believe me, son. I know.”

Oliver nods thoughtfully, letting Quentin’s words sink in. The chiming of the Star City Clock in the city center tells the world it’s noon. This jars Oliver from his reverie momentarily and prompts him to ask his deputy mayor, “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Right…” Quentin slides the folder in his hand across Oliver’s desk. Oliver flips the fat document open.

“Lay it on me.”

About ten minutes into Quentin going over the budget for park beautification, Oliver’s eyes glaze as his mind shifts to the throwing star. He can’t let anyone hurt his family ever again. So, what does that mean? Keeping secrets again? He doesn’t want to do that. But the stakes are high, and he has more to lose now than ever before. He needs to be a father, not only to Star City, but to a twelve-year-old boy who’s lost his mother. His own flesh and blood. He’s got to keep them safe. An unease gnaws at his gut, causing him to push his chair back and rise to his feet. “Quentin, I have to get to the bunker. I need to talk to Felicity.”

“What’s going on?”

Oliver reaches in his drawer and pulls out the black-cloth-covered throwing star. He pockets it without explaining further. “I’ll let you know when I find out.” He strides out of his office, leaving Quentin with weary, worried eyes.

“Do I even wanna know?”

_SMASH TO OPENING TITLES_

***

Thea and Felicity sit at an adorable outdoor café in downtown Star City with two enormous salads and a pair of milkshakes – Felicity’s is green mingled with little bits of chocolate, while Thea’s is cream-colored looped with a golden syrupy swirl. “Caramel and cinnamon inside vanilla ice cream should be against the law.”

“I’m a simple girl. Mint chip for me forever and always,” quips Felicity.

Thea rolls her eyes, a fond smile on her lips. “Simple is the exact opposite of Felicity Smoak,” she says, leaning forward for a sip of her delicious-looking shake. Her cane sits propped against the table, her busted left leg still in a cast. Her healing is going well, but Oliver still hovers.

“Yeah,” Felicity replies, looking down into her green bit of delight, dipping her straw in and out. She bounces her knee a bit, trying to relieve her nerves. “I’m just glad we haven’t heard from our thug-of-the-hour Mr. Dragon in the last couple weeks.” She presses her lips together then releases them to sip her drink.

Thea regards her for a moment before asking, “Did I hit a nerve?” She pushes shake aside for some water. 

Felicity finishes her swig. “No. No.” She waves her hand in an effort to cover her twisting nerves. Things with Oliver and William have been tying her in knots. After spending time with William, she already loves them both so much, but she’s not sure any of it is going anywhere. And her life—her actual career, her purpose—she feels like she’s stuck in a thickening limbo she can’t escape. But she’ll figure it out. For now, she’s just going to enjoy lunch and try to stay out of her head. “So, to what do I owe this impromptu tete-a-tete?” she asks Thea in an attempt to get her mind off of herself.

Thea shrugs. “Can’t a girl hang out with her former sister-in-law-to-be without a motive?”

Felicity quirks an eyebrow. She’s usually the Queen of Awkward Moments. But right now, Thea seems poised to steal her crown.

Thea takes one bite then another of her salad. Felicity just watches her, waiting for a response. “All right, my motive is kinda corny, but really, really important.”

“Okay,” Felicity says, taking a bite of her own salad. God, why did she wait so long to do this? It’s delicious. What is the name of this place again?

“Family,” supplies Thea.

Felicity stuffs another clump of lettuce, feta, berries, and chicken into her mouth. “Not sure I follow.” Of course, she does.

Thea snorts. “Of course, you do.”

“We’re taking things slow,” Felicity replies finally. She knows how pathetic that answer sounds, but what else could she say?

“For William’s sake?”

“Yeah…that.” It doesn’t matter how fast she wants to take all of this right now, a kid is involved. It’s a kid she doesn’t know that well but feels affection for. He’s Oliver son. He’s alone in the world. He’s brilliant and shy and vulnerable. She wants to protect him, but she’s also not sure at all if she’s ready to be a mother. Not that she would be his mother. His mother just died, and Felicity’s not even 30. And William is almost taller than she is. But what does any of this matter? She and Oliver haven’t even talked about this—not really. They’ve made up guidelines and said they’d wait, but that’s about it. She has no idea what he’s actually thinking. She’s pretty damn good at reading him, but she’d like to actually have a moment or two alone without guilt or fear—two emotions she feels constantly pulsing from her mayor-vigilante ex-fiancé. 

“He loves you, Felicity,” says Thea, pulling Felicity from her mental spiral.

“Oliver or William?”

“Both? Oliver for sure.”

Felicity can’t fight the blush that burns her cheeks and swiftly changes the subject. “What about you? Keeping busy outside of City Hall?”

Thea lights up with a serious glow. “Actually, I have a bit of a pet project.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, it’s …”

***

At the bunker, his suit shed for a black t-shirt and workout pants, Oliver sits in front of Felicity’s monitors, watching for anything out of the ordinary. Not much is going on that the SCPD can’t handle. He gets up after a while and moves over to the mats to work out. He starts with the salmon ladder then moves over to his boxing dummy.

“Cut out of work early today?” John Diggle’s voice filters into the room as the elevator doors swoosh closed behind him and he strides further into the mouth of the bunker.

Oliver looks up but doesn’t stop his pummeling of the training dummy. “Lunch break. You seen Felicity?”

John folds his massive arms across his chest. “She’s at lunch with Thea.”

This does stop Oliver. “Oh.” Are they talking about him? Is Felicity upset about something he’s done and needs to pick Thea’s brain about it? Felicity knows him better than anyone, but still sisterly insight could be what she’s going for. Then again, Felicity and Thea are friends, aren’t they? That’s what he’s always wanted for them, anyway. Why should this worry him? It shouldn’t. It’s fine. Great, in fact.

John goes on speaking, “Glad you two are getting things somewhat back to normal. She’s stopped being so distant with you, right?”

“Hmm? Yeah. I mean, we’ve been talking to each other on phone every couple of nights to check in. So, yeah.” Oliver moves away from the dummy to a shelf where he finds a towel to throw over his shoulder and a bottle of water to swig. In seconds, he gulps every drop and wipes his mouth.

John eyes his friend.

“You okay?”

Oliver towels himself off and puts the empty water bottle down on top of the shelf. He strides back to the computers where he left the black folded cloth at Felicity’s workstation. He sinks into her chair, hoping in the most irrational way possible that sitting in it would will her into their presence.

John follows him, leaning against the railing surrounding the circular platform housing the bulk of Felicity’s electronic babies.

Oliver picks up the black cloth and opens it. “Yeah, I … Someone sent this to me the other day.”

John’s eyes go wide before narrowing. “A copycat. Obviously.”

“Yeah. Maybe just a prank.” Oliver highly doubted he was that lucky. Whoever did this was sending a message and it wasn’t for a walk on the beach. Most likely he wasn’t going to solve this as either Oliver or as the Mayor of his precious city.

The monitors light up, a blinking dot firing off and on somewhere close to the Glades. “Something’s up,” Oliver realizes, swiveling Felicity’s chair around and zeroing in on a white blinking light.

***

“It’s a charity of sorts…” Thea goes on.

“A charity? Ooo.”

“Yeah, my dad – the Queen dad – started one of his earliest benevolent causes.”

Felicity could tell Thea was holding back a snort of derision. She respected Robert Queen’s legacy no matter how much dirt surrounded it.

Thea brightened further as she burrowed through the details. “He started it years before Ollie was born. It’s a home for abandoned kids. Thankfully, the city kept it going and there was a sizable trust set up in conjunction with a foundation that left it relatively untouched by our financial crisis – a few years ago.” Thea clears her throat.  “Some anonymous donor just dropped a ton of cash into it and brought it back on my radar.”

“Wow. That’s kinda perfect,” Felicity says.

“Yeah,” Thea continues, “so they’ve recently added on a really small part that helps women struggling in the community who have kids to raise. I was thinking of extending that portion with the donation to assist women who need help taking care of their families. So, we’re helping the moms, too. Dads can also get help, but I just thought I’d start with this specific focus. What do you think?”

“It sounds — Oh, my God.” Felicity’s eye catches an alert on her phone, which has been beside her plate the entire time. “What’s the name of the center again?”

“Hope House.” Thea’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

Felicity tugs the corner of her mouth between her teeth. _God, why do people have to be so shitty?_

***

Oliver, as mayor— and Diggle, as head of his security—arrive in front of a large Victorian House just outside of the Glades. Its old charm once stuck out in the middle of the urban gunk. Now, its charred edifice fits right in. A soot-covered sign in the front reads: Hope House.

Oliver watches a woman of about forty with glistening tears speaking to Dinah, “He just took him. Kidnapped him from under our noses. I don’t know why. He doesn’t have parents to threaten for ransom. He’s a good boy. Just eight-years-old.”

Oliver’s heart clutches at that. Younger than William. He knows the police should be the ones to handle this, but somehow this seems personal.

“We’ll get you and the other Hope House boys to a safe place,” Oliver says, stepping between the two women. Dinah folds her arms and quirks an eyebrow.

The woman frowns. “There are twelve beds here. How could you possibly....”

“We’ll find you a place tonight,” Oliver assured her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ms…?”

 “Mrs. Bailey. I’m a widow, and ever since my husband died, this place, these boys, have been everything to me.” She blinks back a fresh set of tears. “Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Please. Just find him,” she finishes with a plea in her eyes.

Oliver lends her a calming smile.

The woman presses her lips together as if to steel her resolve. “I’ll go tell my crew we’ll have some place to sleep tonight,” she informs them before walking away.

“Any suspects?” Oliver asks Dinah; he can sense her worry through her calm exterior. 

Dinah folds her arms across her chest and puffs out a tight breath. “A white male, mid-30s, about six feet tall with a scar on his neck. We have a few witnesses. We’ll get this guy. He hasn’t had long to run.”

“Vehicle?”

“Someone said they saw a green sedan, about fifteen-years-old, tearing up the street right after the fire started.”

Oliver nods as he soaks in the information. No way he’s sitting this one out. He’ll be hitting the streets as soon as it’s dark with the team.

“You saw this on the monitors?” Dinah asks.

“Yeah. I was at the bunker. Needed to, uh, talk to Felicity,” he finishes quickly.

Dinah’s not usually one to pry and only says, “Speaking of… Can you get her in on this?”

Before Oliver can answer, a photo with a caption of intel materializes on Dinah’s phone. “Our girl’s already ahead of us. The car’s registered to a guy named Petersen Richards.”

“Felicity already? Great.” God, he loved her.

“Never underestimate the wonder women in your life.”

Oliver chuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dinah gives him a pointed look before walking off.

***

A twelve-year-old boy in old jeans and a Star City Rockets t-shirt runs down the puddle-laden alley behind Hope House. He trips over a broken board in his path and twists his leg, causing him to stumble.

“Ow! Shit!” He stops to rub his leg and reorient himself. He can stand. He’s fine. _Excellent!_ Before he can take off again, a familiar voice stops him.

“Cody?” A woman with long dark hair wearing a discount pantsuit appears from the back of the charred building. Heels clacking on the asphalt, she nears the now frozen-in-place wide-eyed preteen.

Cody opens and closes his mouth a few times before spitting out, “Mom? How did you find me?”

“Mother-radar,” replies the woman, arms folded, eyebrows high and expectant. Save the pantsuit, she looks too young to be his mom.

“Since when?” asks the boy.

“What are you doing back here? Did you see who started the fire?” his mother asks.

“No, I was trying to see if Dixon was trapped inside.”

On cue, a cat meows from the top of a nearby wall. “Dixon!” The tabby cat scurries away. Like most cats, Dixon pops in and out as he pleases. “At least he’s alive, right?”

“Why aren’t you in school, Cody?” his mother asks, weariness clear in her voice.

“We had a half day?” explains the boy. His mother is clearly not buying it. He waits for her to rain terror on him, but instead she says—

“Let’s get you home.”

“What about the kids who live here? Where are they going to go?” Cody could care less really. But he has to act the innocent to keep his mom relaxed. He can’t afford to get grounded or anything. He promised that weird dude he’d help him out tomorrow.

“The mayor’s taking care of that,” his mother says.

Cody frowns.  He hates rich guys like that.  “Mayor Queen? That pretty boy? What does he care about this place?”

“You need to learn to respect your elders,” his mother warns, leading him down the alley toward the street.

Without her seeing, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Yeah, whatever.” What the heck does Oliver Queen care about people in the Glades? He doesn’t get it. It’s all about survival of the fittest here. No one really helps them. Just a few tokens here and there so they can get votes or trick people into buying up their property and turning it into something they can profit from. That’s what his uncle told him before he died. And he was right. That’s all the stupid mayor cares about. Well, Cody isn’t going to sit around waiting for handouts from anyone. He’s going to take care of himself – and maybe his mom, but that’s it. He trails after his overworked mother down the damp alley, pushing down the twinge of guilt he feels for taking that money to set the fire. He did it for his family.

***

 Felicity and Curtis sit on opposite sides of the computer hub at the bunker with matching creases in their brows. Both are glad to have each other as tech buddies. Though it sometimes gets lonely being the only ones. The others don’t understand how stressful it can be when things get down to the wire.

“It’s past eight,” says Curtis, eyes darting over the screen in front of him, “and they still haven’t found the kid.”

Felicity’s fingers fly over the keyboard at her station. “I’m working on it. Just give me some time.” Where the fuck is this guy? She’s pulled every bit of surveillance footage and hasn’t seen anything from him since he left his car. This is a kid in the system. Who is going through so much trouble to keep him out of sight? She has zero answers, and she hates having zero answers.

 _“Felicity?”_ Oliver voice filters in over the comms. He, Diggle and Rene are suited up and on the prowl. _“We checked out the warehouses by the docks where the car was abandoned but no sign of the boy or the guy.”_

“Petersen Richards,” Felicity supplies. “The police haven’t had any luck either, but I have another lead. I’ll check in with you soon.”

***

It’s an inky damp night as Green Arrow, Spartan, and Wild Dog move through the docks nearest the Glades, eyes peeled, heads on a swivel. “We’re gonna find this bastard, right?” asks Rene.

Black Canary jumps from the top of crate above them and joins their march. “We better. Even if we have to stay out all night. Just glad to be in my night gear, so I can truly give this kidnapper dirtbag what he deserves.”

Green Arrow strides ahead of them with Diggle by his side. Whoever took this kid is no rookie. He has no doubt getting the boy back is not going to be easy. Anyone who Felicity has a hard time tracking is not a person they should underestimate. “Stay sharp.”

Wild Dog hangs back a little while still walking, still watching, and hits his comm. “Curtis, can you make sure Zoe’s okay?”

 _“Having a slightly busted knee gets you baby-sitting duty, huh?”_ quips Curtis from the other end of the line. _“I’m on it. Don’t worry.”_

Wild Dog strides up and falls in line next to Oliver, while Spartan moves back next to Dinah.

“We’re gonna take the perimeter,” says Spartan.

“Copy.” Green Arrow continues forward, eyes on alert as he moves down the path in front of him.

Wild Dog keeps up. “Hoss, I don’t know if I thanked you, but…thank you.”

“This isn’t really the time,” Green Arrow grunts.

Wild Dog continues, his lack of following orders itching Oliver. “For Zoe… and me. The scholarship.”

“She got herself into the school. She’s a smart kid.”

“Keeps her safer, so I’m all for that. Thanks. Being a single dad is tough.”

“Tell me about it,” says Green Arrow. He understands his teammate’s concern but does not want to focus on child-rearing right now. The crack of fireworks filling the sky in the distance draws his eyes up. The latest Star City Rockets game, coming to a close. Of course, his son enters his mind in a rush he can’t stop. “I was gonna take William to a game, but I don’t think he wants to—"

Overwatch’s voice interrupts him over the comms, _“Found ‘em! But they’re nowhere near the docks. They’re at a location owned by Palmer Tech – 1407 Graymalkin Lane.”_

“But that’s…” Oliver starts. Why would they go there? What the hell? 

_“I know. But—”_

Overwatch’s voice basically tells him analyze it later, get over there now. She’s his compass after all. “We’re on our way.”

Spartan and Black Canary dash around a corner seconds later as Green Arrow and Wild Dog reach the fence leading out of the docks. Spartan speaks first, “The kidnapper has the kid at—”

“My old family estate.” Damn it. He chose to stay away from it for a reason, a reason more than moving on to a brighter future. But with a child’s life at stake, he has no choice. The ghosts of his past take a backseat to when it comes to defending the innocent people in Star City.

***

Not long after, Team Arrow arrives at 1407 Graymalkin Lane, the site of the former Queen estate. They pull their van into a dark corner of the road and pile out. Oliver tries like hell to push away the feeling that this has something to do with him, that it could be connected to the throwing star he found. But it has to just be a coincidence. Oliver doesn’t know this boy, but the place that had been burned down had been connected to his family years ago. They easily slip over the sidewall and onto the dark, overgrowing lawn leading up to the estate. He hadn’t kept track of who owned it. He hadn’t wanted to face it until Felicity let it slip that Palmer Tech had acquired the estate recently, for whatever reason he did not know. Then about a month later, he looked into trying to get it back -- his dreams of the future getting the better of him. But he did not want to curse his future with his past.

“Felicity said they were on the second floor, south wing,” Green Arrow tells his team as they near the massive house.

“Right,” says John. “Best bet is to go through the kitchen entrance… I’m assuming you know a way in, Oliver.”

He nods once.

 _“I disarmed the security system, so you should be good to go,”_ Felicity informs them over the comms.

Oliver shows the team a secret entrance through the back, and they scale through the grounds as swiftly and covertly as possible. With a child in danger, there is no room for error. It was hard enough finding these punks. If they got away, a second time might not be in the cards.

“Why do you think they picked this place?” Dinah asks as they scale the portion of the house leading to the kitchen.

“Can we discuss details later?” Oliver grouses.

“Hoss is right. We got a kid to save.”

Spartan moves to the other side of the door that leads to the kitchen at the back of the house. There is an engraved pewter symbol etched into a wooden edifice. It’s a Q with a D slabbed through the middle. _Queen-Dearden._ A symbol of his childhood—a talisman of the past. Oliver’s breathing triples. He steals himself. He has to focus. He has a job to do. He stuffs his sentiment into a corner of his chest he may or may not revisit, then jimmies the lock of the back kitchen door as if it was an old door on a dilapidated trailer. They’re in.

They move on soft feet through the main corridor of the house, then weave up the stairs. Everything is dark, damp, and in disrepair. The state of his past clamps onto Oliver’s heart, but he pushes it down and keeps up the steps—laser-focused on the mission.  This has everything to do with him, he knows it. But he can’t let that get in the way of saving the kid. A surge of empathetic protectiveness whips through him as he recalls the way he feels when William is in danger. He pounds up the steps.

They find the assailant in what used to be the library in the center of the south wing. The Green Arrow enters the room first and sees the Hope House child bound to a chair. “Step away from the boy.” Spartan and the others slip in behind him, weapons at the ready.

The man holding him hostage is caught off guard by their presence. This is clearly not what he is trained or prepared to face, whomever the spindly-looking clown is. “Don’t hurt me. I was just following orders.”

“Orders from whom?”

The man drops a gaseous toxin onto the ground. It spreads through the room. Oliver shoots an arrow through the cloud of smoke toward his leg, but the man is already sliding out of the window. 

“Take care of the boy. I’ve got this guy,” Oliver growls, running toward the window. He slips outside and sees the man already on the flat of the lawn. He’s a fast little fucker. Oliver shimmies down the side of the house and takes off after him. The guy dodges Oliver’s pursuing arrows like a damn acrobat. _Thwickt! Thwickt! Thwickt!_ Oliver keeps firing until, “ahh!” He gets him right in the back of his leg.

***

The next morning, the news fires off the enormous flat screen in the middle of Oliver’s living room. William, dressed for school, stands in front of it. The report flashes images of the police surrounding the Queen mansion and a young boy being ushered to safety. William sighs then moves over to the sofa. He plops down in front of a stack of baseball cards. He picks them up and shuffles through them as if waiting for someone to come and tell him it’s time to get to school. Speak of the devil, the front door opens.

“Hey, buddy,” a familiar voice fills the room.

William looks up from his cards. “Hi, Aunt Thea.”

Thea quirks an eyebrow as she hobbles further into the room to stand in front of her nephew. “Baseball fan?”

William shrugs. “Sometimes. I like superhero stuff more, but…Dad gave these to me.” William knows his dad is trying, but sometimes it’s too much. He does like baseball a little, though. He’s just so tired. But he has to admit that he really felt lucky to not have to be all alone after he lost his mother. He’s really starting to love his new family, but it’s just too much for him to say that out loud right now.

His Aunt Thea smiles a bit, her expression turning a wistful. “His favorite team was…”

“Let me guess, the Starling City Rockets?” Thea ruffles his hair. “Hey!”

“Sorry. But yes, good guess. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken you to a game yet. He hates that the name changed to the Star City Rockets.”

“But he’s mayor,” says William, standing up and pushing the cards away. “He could change the city name back, right?”

“You know, you have a point.”

William frowns and worries his bottom lip.

Thea shuts off the television, then turns to William. “What’s wrong?”

William gestures to the now blank TV screen. “That kid…”

“They found him,” Thea assures him.

“You mean Dad found him,” William mutters.

“Yeah. Uh, he wanted me to come by, ride with you to school. See if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Raisa’s here.” William throws his thumb over his shoulder. He can feel the tension in the air. He knows Thea wishes he’d just be a regular kid and magically adjust, but it’s not that easy. “She’s just cleaning up after breakfast.”

“It’s only your second day,” says Thea. “He wanted to take you, but—”

“He had a kid to save,” William clips, then blurts out, “Is this his fault, too?” William resists the urge to slap his hand over his mouth. He shouldn’t have said that, but he wants to know. Was it his fault?

“No. Why would you think that?”

“The guy took him to your old house for one, and… I don’t know. Who was he? The kid?”

“I don’t know. A boy from a local youth center,” Thea explains. “Look, kiddo. I know it looks bad, but the truth is, I have no idea why the kidnapper used our old place as a hideout.”

“But there has to be a reason.”

“William…”

He shakes his head, a tightness growing in his chest. “Why did he take that kid? His parents don’t have money for ransom, do they? Or are they vigilantes like Dad?”

“He doesn’t have parents. Some people are just sick.”

“Oh.” William picks up his Flash backpack and heads toward the door. He guesses he won’t get any answers out of Thea, not that she knows anything. All William wants is to have a normal day today. Maybe make at least one friend, then come home and hide in his room and play video games – after he does his homework. He’s not a complete slacker, though he hears that’s in his DNA.

“The Flash, huh?”

William shrugs and heads out with Thea following.

Later, William and Thea pull through the gates of Star City Prep in Thea’s convertible and inch through the drop off lane for the middle school students. William feels a bit better—the ride through town seeming to have cleared his head a little. So far, he really likes his new school, going to class and being around other people is proving to be a good recipe for getting his mind of the things going on in his personal life.

“Have a good one, kiddo,” Thea says as William unlocks the car door. “Your dad’s driver will come get you after school, then you’ll—"

“Meet Raisa at home. Got it. Thank you, Aunt Thea.”

Just as he opens the door, Thea reminds him, “You know your dad loves you, right?”

“I guess. It’s just really…” William is unsure of what else to say. He is tired of people trying to force a father-and-son relationship on him. He likes his dad, and he really does think his new family is pretty cool, but he just needs time. They are still halfway strangers.

“Weird. I know. New family, and well, just have a good day.”

William gets out of the car. Thea surprises him by getting out, too, then coming around to his side. She leans fashionably against her cane. “I won’t go in with you, I promise.” Before Thea can say anything further, a young girl runs up to her, powder blue backpack bouncing on her shoulders. “Thea! Your leg getting better?”

“Hey, Zoe! Totally getting better.” Thea smiles brightly at Rene’s daughter.  “Do you know my nephew, William?”

“Oh, I think we have Life Science and English together,” supplies Zoe, a much less enthusiastic smile on her face.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” William sputters. He fights the blush creeping up his neck. He hates being so awkward sometimes. Then he has an idea. “You wanna go in together?” Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. She probably has her own friends.

Zoe shrugs. “Sure.”

William smiles. “Okay. Great.”

Thea smirks at both of them. “Okay, well. Don’t study too hard.”

William blushes again. Ugh. “Bye, Aunt Thea.” 

Thea chuckles as they head inside of the gorgeous building that is Star City Prep.

***

Oliver walks into the SCPD precinct to find Dinah with Petersen Richards in cuffs and the boy with Mrs. Bailey from Hope House. The boy has a blanket around him. Oliver really doesn’t want to think about the fact that he’d put his son in this type of situation before, and now maybe this boy, too. Why the hell had that guy taken him to the old Queen estate?

“I want to question him,” Oliver tells Dinah when she approaches him.

“It wouldn’t look right. Just let me handle it.”

Oliver backs off. The kid is rescued. Everything is fine. He’ll bring it up to Felicity later. They can decide together if they need to dig any deeper.

Later that day, Oliver arrives at the Mayor’s office. With Rene in tow, Quentin approaches him with in the outer corridor beside his office. “You got the guy. Smile a little.”

“Yeah,” Oliver grunts. He needs to talk to Felicity, and not just about the throwing star. He just needs her. With a steely intake of breath, he soothes his deprived heart as best he can and focuses on what Quentin is saying.

“I have a few things for you to sign. Then we have a meeting with the Neighborhood Empowerment guy in two hours, then it’s the Waterfront people, and then the liaison for the Department of Parks and Rec.”

“Never a dull moment,” Oliver quips just before his phone bloops with an incoming text. He chuckles after pulling out his phone and scanning the message. “William’s off to a good start.”

“Oh?”

“He met Zoe this morning. I think they hit it off.” Oliver smiles a bit. As if his ears were burning, Rene shows up, holding his own set of papers for Oliver to sign.

“What’s going on, Hoss?” Rene asks, taking in Oliver’s amused smile.

“Zoe and William met this morning.”

Rene starts. “Tell your kid to behave himself around my little girl.”

Oliver chuckles. He knows Rene means no offense to William. He’s just doing the overprotective father thing, something’s his keenly beginning to understand. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Rene points a finger at Oliver. “I mean it. Zoe’s gone through a lot.”

“And William hasn’t?”

Rene backs down a bit. “I didn’t mean…She’s my little girl.”

“They’re both good kids from what I can tell.”

“You’re right. I bet William looks after her. I keep forgetting he’s nothing like his dad.”

Oliver frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rene smirks and walks off. He could really act like a punk sometimes. Oliver shakes his head and walks back to his office.

****

The next morning at the bunker looks like any other typical day. Most of the team is not around at this hour, which according to the clock on the corner of Felicity’s console is 9:37am. She is currently sitting with Curtis, working on personal projects. Only a few hours of sleep have been absorbed since rescuing the boy, but Felicity feels somewhat refreshed thanks to her morning cup of coffee and soothing shower. Her nights have been a lot less restless after those first few months after Lian Yu, and she’s inching toward feeling like herself again. She still needs a hell of a lot more to get her back in that place, but she now she’s got a plan—sort of. She cracks her neck.

“Tense?” asks Curtis.

“Just a little bit. I’m good though.”

“I could give you a neck massage,” Curtis offers.

Felicity expels a dry chuckle. “The only person who has good enough fingers to—”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

 Curtis pushes away from his workspace and slides his chair next to Felicity. “You are being stupid.  You know that, right?”

Felicity wrinkles her nose and rolls her chair to another work station. There’s nothing she can do about the situation. Why does everyone think she wants things to be like this? William has to be the priority right now. And she’s fine. Better than fine -- usually. As if everyone else isn’t going through stuff.

“I know William’s the priority, but can’t you guys just—”

Felicity whips her head around, signaling for Curtis to drop the subject. He raises his hands in mock-surrender. She may not be able to change the Oliver part of her life just yet, but she would do something about the work part of it. Should she bring it up now? Felicity sighs and turns back to her computer for a second. Maybe not just yet. Soon, though, very soon.

“Is it just me or are things getting a little slow around here?” Curtis asks as if reading her mind.

Felicity turns back around. This time she moves her chair toward Curtis. “Do you have something in mind to change that?”

A serious expression settles on his face. “I just miss us working together on cool stuff, like we did back at Palmer Tech. You were a great boss. Still are. I mean, you run this whole place, so—”

Felicity nods. She misses being the boss of a tech company but values her work as Overwatch dearly. She just needs a little more in her life, something that’s all her, something out there with her name on it. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. Actually, I wanted to ask you about something. But later.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yep,” she says.

And soon, they settle into the day, moving in a flurry of taps and tinkers on projects across the bunker.

Time passes and 9:50 am on the clock turns to 9:50 pm.

Felicity rolls her chair into the middle of the center platform and stares up at the ceiling.  “We totally need lives.”

Oliver strides in. Felicity straightens and looks up to see him wearing a forlorn frown. When he spots her, however, his frown melts into a content smile. 

“Oliver? I thought you had to be home with William.” She pops out of her chair and goes to him. They meet just off the stairs of the platform, drawn to one another like magnets. They are so close that Felicity notices a loose button on Oliver’s dress shirt. She reaches out and flicks it a little. He stares into her eyes for a long beat. Her fingers tremble a bit. He catches her hand.

Curtis clears his throat. “I just remembered I have a Crash Bandicoot meetup tonight.”

Felicity and Oliver continue staring at each other. “What’s a Crash Bandicoot?” Oliver asks Felicity.

“It’s a…”

“Video game character,” Curtis fills in. “We’re a gamer meetup, but there’s a new Crash out and—”

They turn to look at Curtis, but Felicity’s hand is still resting on Oliver’s chest. He flicks his thumb over her skin as if trying to soothe something she can feel creeping to the surface – vulnerability.  

The rough clearing of Curtis’s throat sounds like an awkward old motor. Felicity knows she would have laughed if Oliver practically buzzing thumb wasn’t doing what it was doing. “I’ll be going.” Curtis points toward the elevators then speed-walks toward them. He looks back once and gives a thumb’s up. Felicity shoots him a glare. “Yeah, going.”

When he’s gone, Oliver visibly swallows and steps back. “I wanted to—uh, I wanted to say good night.”

Felicity steps back with a faint blush heating her cheeks. “You could have called.”

“I wanted to…say it in person,” Oliver murmurs.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah. I just… I wanted to catch up. We haven’t spent much time together in the last few weeks… other than our calls and being here, and I…” Oliver clears his throat but says nothing more.

“I know. So, I don’t want to stand in your way… you know with William and…”

“Felicity…”

“Well, we can plan a dinner. Friendly. Nothing serious. Chinese at my place. Wait. Maybe not Chinese because you know what happens when we do Chinese. Well, if we leave out the wine maybe we’ll be okay. That is if you have time or think it’s a good idea.”

Oliver’s face lights up. “Dr. Who night at your place sounds perfect. And we’ll do Big Belly Burger instead of Chinese.”

Felicity chuckles. “But what about William?”

Oliver sighs and shrugs. “He prefers Raisa over me anyway.”

“Oliver…I’m being serious.”

He moves her away from that line of questioning as quick as lightning. “You want to do it tonight? The dinner, I mean.”

Yes. Yes. A thousand and three times yes…but no. Not now. She’s not ready for it to be right now. She bites the inside of her cheek. It’s too quick for it to be the way she wants it to be. She feels so much better than she had. She needs him, but something is telling her to hold back. “Not yet. But soon.”

Oliver nods, reaching out to touch her elbow. “Okay. I like that dress on you, by the way.”

Felicity blushes, the mood suddenly a lot lighter. “Thanks.” She moves back to her computers. She’ll put another twenty minutes in. There’s always work to be done even if it’s not her other kind of work… yet.

***

The next day, as mid-morning light spills through windows of second period world geography, William Clayton Queen and Zoe Ramirez sit in class trying to pay attention to their particularly slow-cadenced teacher. William passes Zoe a note with a silly doodle on it. She giggles.

“Mr. Clayton. Miss Ramirez.”

They both look up with gasps. William speaks up first. “Sorry, Ms. Beauchamp. It won’t happen again.”

Later, Zoe catches up to William in the hallway just before lunch. The place is a sea of privileged kids with a side of geniuses on scholarship for one of three reasons – brains, smarts, or connections. Zoe Ramirez is a bit of all three: the quiet girl, who’d felt lost the first few days, hopes she’s found kindred in William, who seems just as out of place as she feels, in spite of his newfound pedigree.

“So, you hate your dad?” she says to break the ice. Complaining is always a good way to get people talking.

William walks without answering for a while, dodging a large eighth grade jock who looks at least sixteen. “No, I actually feel really lucky to have him now, but at the same time, I’m not sure if it’s his fault my mom is dead.”

So, he’s closed off and then spills his guts. Unpredictable. Got it.  “Do you really think he’d have let your mom die if it was his choice?” she asks.

“No.”

“Then…” They stop just outside of the cafeteria.

“Yeah. He’s trying. I just… I miss my old life, too.”

Two students slightly older than Zoe and William wearing high-tech remote-control wristbands part the hallway with what look like mini rolling robots.

“That’s a miniature BB-8!” William’s eyes widen, his finger jutting out at the orange and white robot toy zipping between students’ feet. “It’s a droid from Star Wars.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Duh.” She giggles. “I know you miss your old life, William, but this one could be pretty cool maybe.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” William smiles as they head into the cafeteria. “You think I can talk my dad into buying me one of those?”

“Definitely.”

***

Thea stands in the middle of the common room of the temporary Hope House location, talking with Mrs. Bailey. Though the old location had been declared a historical landmark in Star City decades ago, they have yet to decide if it will remain the location for Hope House itself if it is restored. Both Mrs. Bailey and Thea agree that the center is less about the location and more about what Hope House does for the community. She’s also really excited to be doing something on her own. She hates what happened, but it’s obvious they need her more than ever.

“I never expected someone like you to take such an interest,” Mrs. Bailey admits.

“Well, my father was instrumental in starting Hope House even before Ollie was born. It came on my radar when I saw what you were doing to help single mothers, in addition to the boys you board in the foster care system.”

A young woman has been standing nearby listening, having just walked in a few minutes earlier. Thea looks up and smiles at her. The woman seems to take this as her cue to join Thea and Mrs. Bailey. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m Dawn Driscoll. My son, Cody, and I love the center, too. It’s been a real God-send. But as Mrs. Bailey mentioned, you’re Thea Queen. It’s just amazing to see you here, I guess.”

“We all have our demons to slay, some more than others.” Thea smiles. “This place helps those who don’t have a support system. Some of us don’t even realize how valuable that is until it’s gone.”

“I know you lost your parents younger than most,” Mrs. Bailey says to Thea. “That couldn’t have been easy. Money can’t replace losing the ones we love, and riches don’t mend heartache.”

Thea nods. She’s all for bonding, but she wants to stick to the matter at hand. “Have you learned anything new about why the kidnapping happened?  Or the fire?”

Mrs. Bailey sighs. “Not much. They’ve questioned the kidnapper, but he isn’t talking. I’m just happy to have my boy back, and to have that horrible man behind bars.”

“But the police aren’t sure he’s the one who set the fire. They think he had an accomplice,” Thea states. She notices Dawn clearing her throat and shifting uncomfortably. “Do you know something?”

“No. I just. I don’t like the idea of anyone else out there that could hurt the kids, or any one of us.”

“Right now, I feel pretty much like a failure,” Mrs. Bailey says, blinking back tears and looking away.

Thea shakes her head.  “There was nothing you could have done.  The world has bad people, but we can’t let them destroy the good. I promise you will have help to rebuild, and that the new center will have all the best security money can buy. But it already has what can’t be bought:  good, dedicated people like you, who are not easily scared away. Trust me, you are doing great. You’re making a difference.”

“Would you like to take on more of a central role?” asks Mrs. Bailey.

“You mean like something more full-time?”

Before Mrs. Bailey responds, Oliver and Felicity walk in. Thea spots them and waves them over.

“Thea, you really should stay off that leg a little more,” Oliver says instantly in big brother mode.

Thea rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Mrs. Bailey, Dawn, you know my brother, Oliver?”

“Mr. Mayor,” Mrs. Bailey says, extending her hand. Oliver shakes it, then Dawn’s.

“Oliver, please.”

“And this is Felicity Smoak,” Thea supplies.

Mrs. Bailey gasps. “Huge admirer, Ms. Smoak. Always keeping track of the influencers with big minds in our town.”

“Oh, I’m, uh…not so influential,” Felicity says with a flush.

“You were CEO of Palmer Tech at what? 28?” Mrs. Bailey goes on.

“27,” Oliver boasts.

“I’ve always admired you and your innovations. I knew you were headed for something big for this city, then suddenly you were gone. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s okay. Just taking a little hiatus. You’ll see me again soon enough.”

Oliver shoots her a look. She shrugs as if to say she was just going along. Oliver knows better though. “So, let’s talk. We’d like to help you with whatever you need.”

Cody bursts into the room, eyes sort of wild. Thea dashes out of his path as the kid practical knocks her over.

“Hey, slow down, bud,” Dawn says as if trying very hard not to snap.

“Hey, Mom,” says the pre-teen, “I thought we were getting some food. I’m tired of waiting out there.”

“This is my son, Cody,” Dawn introduces the boy to the group.

Oliver is the first to extend his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cody.”

Cody folds his arms and scowls before clipping out, “Nice to meet you, Mister Mayor.” Oliver frowns at the cold reception. Cody goes on. “How’s your long-lost son?”

“Cody!” Dawn flushes red, eyes wide.

“You know William?” Oliver asks.

Cody rolls his eyes. “He probably goes to a froo-froo school, so no, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

Oliver lifts his eyebrows. Thea and Felicity share a look. _Ouch._

***                                                                                        

“Do you want to go to the new VR center downtown?” William asks Zoe as they walk down the street, his limo infuriatingly following at a snail’s pace behind them – parking for a few moments, then driving ahead.

“I should probably go home soon. My dad worries.” Zoe squints in the sunlight, hand shielding her face as she looks at William.

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” William says with a tired sigh.

“You know my dad works with your dad.”

“Oh. I was meaning to ask how you knew my Aunt Thea. I guess I just forgot,” says William.

“It’s okay,” says Zoe. “So yeah, he works for the mayor. He’s his assistant’s assistant. That’s how come I know your aunt.”

“Cool.”

William looks over his shoulder and sees his driver parked and looking at his phone. A surge of rebelliousness that he rarely possesses floods his chest as he looks at Zoe. “Let’s ditch him for a minute.”

Zoe beams at him then takes off, hardly giving him a chance to catch up. “Come on.”

They round the nearest corner into an alley, laughing and out of breath. They wait several seconds before peeking out to see the driver panicked. He has no idea where they are. They laugh some more. “We should go back and put him out of his misery,” says Zoe.

“We will. Soon…”

***

Mid-afternoon falls into early evening when Oliver walks into the bunker, carrying a bag from Big Belly Burger. Felicity sits at her station. No one else is in sight. “Well, hello, Mr. Mayor.”

“Just got you fries in case you have dinner planned. We’ll save the burgers for movie night,” Oliver says, approaching her workstation and depositing the bag.

Felicity adopts a playful frown though Oliver can still spot the weariness behind them. “What movie night?” she asks.

Oliver’s mouth opens and closes. “You said earlier that we’d…”

A full-blown grin lights up her face. Oliver presses his lips together, holding back a smile, as his stomach flips and his heart fills with love and affection for the woman in front of him. There’s his girl. He’s missed this so much. He’s so glad they’re taking the time to talk when they can. But he needs more. He watches Felicity take the bag and pull out the fries. She’s so incredibly worth waiting for, but he’s ready.

“You know you could have gotten me a burger. I don’t need to fit in some fancy suit at night,” Felicity teases.

“Something I’m utterly grateful for. So, um, anyway there’s something I need to talk to you about,” Oliver goes on. He sits in a chair next to her and steals a fry.

“What’s up?” Felicity asks.  Just then, Oliver’s cell rings. “Maybe you were right to just get fries.”

“Sorry,” Oliver mouths and answers, “what do you mean he escaped?” Oliver hangs up. “William ditched the driver, and Zoe’s with him,” Oliver explains. “Shit.”

Rene and Dinah walk in. Rene is in his suit from work. Dinah is in jeans and a casual shirt.  “I love days off,” Dinah declares.

Oliver and Felicity ignore them, continuing their conversation. “They’re just probably grabbing a burger. Don’t want to be with a stuffy driver all day.”

“Who’s just grabbing a burger?” asks Rene.

“William and Zoe ran away from my driver.”

Rene stiffens. “They’re probably fine.” He pulls out his phone to call his daughter. “She’s not answering.”

Oliver’s does the same. “Neither is William.”

Oliver shares a freaked-out look with Felicity. Dinah notices. “What? What else is going on?”

Felicity speaks first. “The kidnapper just escaped.”

***

William and Zoe find themselves at the edge of Bay Street, where a few shops line the road. They stroll along halfway between relaxed – due to their escape – and tense, because they’ve broken the rules. “My Aunt Thea said my dad used to ditch his driver all the time. She said it, but I don’t think she’d think I’d ever do it,” says William.

“Why not?” Zoe wonders.

“I don’t know.” William shrugs. “Maybe they think I’m a good kid. Everybody always thinks that.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Wanna get some ice cream?” William suggests, spotting an inviting cone-shaped sign swinging a few stores ahead.

Their phones buzz simultaneously. William looks at his first. “It’s my dad.”

Zoe looks at hers. “Mine, too.”

“Jeez, we can’t even get away for three minutes,” remarks William.

Just as they are about to answer, the boy, Cody, from the center appears in front of them. His eyes shine with mischief and derision.

“William Clayton? Son of Mayor Oliver Queen?”

William backs up a step. “Yeah? Do I know you?”

Without warning, the boy socks him hard in the stomach. William topples to the ground, groaning in pain. Zoe hits William’s attacker on the back, but he knocks her away. Then, for good measure, Cody pulls off William’s shoes. “Could always use a pair of fancy sneakers.”

William explodes with anger, hops to his feet and knocks Cody down. Cody easily shoves William off him and punches him in the nose. Cody gets up and bolts.  

In his socked feet, William chases after him. A rage the long-lost son of Oliver Queen did not know he had inside bubbles to the surface. Willam’s speed picks up, and soon he’s right behind Cody’s back. Then with a rage-filled growl, William leaps forward and pounces on him. Zoe rushes up and slams her foot into Cody’s side. Before anything further happens, the limo driver appears, his bodyguard-sized hands breaking them apart. Cody looks frightened at the intrusion.

“You okay?”  the driver asks William. Just as William opens his mouth to reply, Cody scoops up William’s backpack and darts down the road. “I’ll go after him. You kids get in the car. Your fathers both want me to get you outta here.”

“We’re fine. You got us. Just forget the backpack.”

William looks over the driver’s shoulder as a black van pulls up a few yards down from where Cody continues his escape. Two men – both in black, one with a beard, one without -- hop out.  He can hear one saying, “That’s him! That’s the kid!”

“Which one?” the other replies.

“Which one do you think, asshat? Flash backpack.”

The bearded guy grabs Cody and throws him into their van.

“Hey!” William shouts. He looks over his shoulder and sees his driver heading back to the car with Zoe. “Are we gonna help him?”

The driver loads Zoe into the car. “Stay put,” he says to Zoe before stalking over to William. “Who knows what a kid like that is involved in? Just get in the car. I’ll get you home.”

William shakes his head. “I’m calling the police.”

The driver attempts to snatch William’s phone away, but William evades him. “I said get in the car, Mr. Queen.”

Shocked, William opens and closes his mouth but does not protest further.  He looks down and sees fifteen more texts from his father. Shit.

***

 With a swoosh of the elevators, a wide-eyed Zoe and an irritated William enter the bunker less than ten minutes later.

“So, you’re telling me you’re friends with Batman or something? This can’t be your Aunt Thea’s office.”

“That’s what we tell the driver.”

“But I thought she worked at City Hall.”

“I guess the driver guy doesn’t like to ask questions. He just likes to bully us in the name of our parents.”

“Whatever. Just tell me what’s going on? This place is like…” Zoe trails off in awe as she continues to take everything in.

“My dad’s the Green Arrow,” William admits with a shrug. “I figure he wouldn’t mind me telling you, since he insisted I bring you here with me – like twenty times.”

Zoe’s mouth drops open.

“Yeah, I know,” William sighs. “Here they come.”

Zoe looks up, expecting to see Oliver’s dad. Instead, she sees someone much more familiar, dressed in full superhero gear sans mask.

“And that makes my dad… Dad?” Zoe’s eyes well up with tears. “What are you wearing? What’s going on?”

“Honey, I…” Rene reaches a hand out and steps cautiously toward her. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Zoe shakes her head, really taking it all in, then—she freaks.  She backs away from his gesture of comfort. “Daddy, I…this is dangerous. I don’t want you to do this.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I just got you back!” Zoe’s tears spill down her cheeks. “This is way worse than the stove! You’re going to get yourself killed and land me back in foster care!”

“No, honey, I promise to be careful.” Rene tries to hug her. Oliver and Felicity appear behind him, watching at a safe distance.

“Don’t touch me.” Zoe steps back again. “I’m not stupid. You fight and kill people. If anyone finds out, we will all be in danger. I already lost Mom, and now I’m going to lose you, too!”

She runs off, not caring that she has no idea where she’s going, hand clapped over her mouth to stop hyperventilating.

***

“Looks like she went toward the training room. I’ll go talk to her,” says William in a neutral voice.

“She’ll get used it,” Oliver offers.

“Sure, she will,” William snaps then moves off to find to Zoe.

Oliver takes a step toward him. “William…”

William whips around. “You’re gonna go save that kid, right?”

Oliver nods. “You know I will.”

“Good.” William starts to head off, then stops without turning around. “Just be careful.”

Oliver sighs. “Always am,” he assures him.

William starts to walk away. He stops just before the training room and looks back as Oliver and the team head out to save yet another kid put in danger, and Felicity slides in front of her machines to work the comms.

About a minute later, William finds Zoe on her knees in the middle of the training room, head bowed. He inches close to her then tentatively touches her shoulder. She turns around and, to his surprise, flings her arms around him, sobbing. After the initial shock, William lets her settle her cheek on his shoulder. “Shh. It’s gonna be okay. They’ll be okay,” he tells her. He hopes to God he’s not lying to her.

***

Thanks to Felicity’s quick surveillance, Oliver and the crew head toward the Star City Rockets stadium, armed and ready. “Much easier tracking them this time, huh?” Dinah remarks.

“It’s almost like they wanted us to find them,” quips Rene.

“Stay sharp,” Diggle reminds all of them. “We’re still one man down out here,” he says, referring to Curtis being home with his bad knee.

“We’ve got this, Spartan. We always do,” Oliver remarks.

 _“Green Arrow, the boy they have is the same kid we met at the center, Cody Driscoll,”_ Felicity explains over the comms.  

“Shit!” Oliver barks.

“What is this guy doing? Taking kids from that specific center?” asks Rene.

“Not the same guys. Maybe both working for another person,” says Dinah.

Felicity’s voice spills into their ears, _“William said he heard one of them mentioning his backpack. I think he was after…”_

“William,” Oliver fills in. “This does have something to do with me. Fuck! We definitely need to talk when I get back.”

The van pulls up to the stadium. The team flies out, weapons at the ready. The stadium stands sit empty, but the lights flood the grassy center of the Rockets’ home.

A man, taller, wider, and more menacing than the kidnapper they apprehended the other night, stands in the center of it all wearing a silver mask. He’s cloaked in black and wears a pair of gloves. The thin man that Oliver recognizes as the kidnapper emerges from behind him. On either side of them are two big goons, one cracking his knuckles, the other keeping Cody in a chokehold. Team Arrow stops a few paces in front of them, poised to fight.

“The Green Arrow. I thought you might show up,” the foreboding leader says through a modulator. It’s chilling, smooth, almost as if he fashioned it to sound both vile and posh.

Oliver nocks his arrow, aiming it at the leader. “Let the boy go,” Oliver grits out.

“You know the Queens funded half this stadium,” the leader says.

“Just put the weapon down and step away from the boy,” Oliver goes on, not taking the bait. He makes a quick plan in his head on what to do next. _Done._

“They funded the center that takes care of this boy and so many others. They were such good people.”

Oliver, quick as lightning, shoots his arrow into the thug holding the boy’s leg, then another into the ground, causing smoke to cloud the assailants’ faces. The thug writhes in pain as blood spurts from his punctured wound. Diggle grabs the boy and moves him out of the way as the team goes to blows with the enemy – left and right, jab and kick.

Seconds later, the loud speakers fill with the song, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

“Don’t you love a good, competitive sport,” the man in the silver mask says as half a dozen more goons fly at them.  

Oliver kicks the closest one in the face, then whips around and punches another in the throat. Three others appear, rushing forward, one of them a woman in all black. A canary cry rips from her throat. Dinah jumps in front of her and lets her own sound waves blast back.  

***

Back at the bunker, William and Zoe watch in awe as Felicity does her magic. She’s tapped into the video feed of the stadium and can see everything. The way she focuses with her fingers flying across all the technology in front of her seems out of this world. Both kids think she’s all kinds of awesome.

“You’re all doing great. Green Arrow, behind you. Spartan, look left. Wild Dog, five o’clock on your six.” Felicity continues instructing the team where to go to either avoid or take out their adversaries.

***

Diggle and Wild Dog fire their weapons at several men sending bullets their way.

A stone’s throw away from them, Oliver flips over more approaching minions. One thick-fisted brute smashes a powerful blow to his chest, but Oliver does not react. Instead, he knocks him back with a precise upper-cut, then turns around and keeps fighting more goons. Soon, everyone but the leader, the woman who was clearly Black Siren, and the thin kidnapper, are laid out on the floor. The three others escaped, but the boy is safe, thank God.

In the aftermath, Oliver and the team lead Cody to the front of the stadium.

“So?” Dinah speaks first, arms folded in front of her as they reach the sidewalk in front of the massive structure.

Cody folds his arms and scowls. “They paid me to follow Queen’s kid and then they took me. Stupid jerks!”

Oliver takes the kid by the collar, not wanting to hurt him but wanting to scare the shit out of him. “Who was it?”

“I never saw any of their faces. None except those two you took out. I didn’t get a name. But it wasn’t them who paid me. It was some lady. She had a mask on. Please don’t call the police,” the boy asks. “I just want to go home.”

“Too late, kid,” Dinah says, looking up as the police lights flash and her team appears behind them. “You’ll be fine. We’ll make sure the mayor doesn’t press charges. I think you’ve learned your lesson, right?”

Cody nods with a sigh. “Yeah. I just want to see my mom.”

Oliver isn’t all that happy with Dinah’s proposal. The little punk needs to be taught a lesson, but then again, maybe today was enough.

Team Arrow melts into the night as the police approach the boy. His mother is with them, arms open. He runs into them.

***

Oliver enters his new penthouse, the home he’s made for his new family with William. He knows he would feel a sense of relief if one more person came to live under its roof. He sighs, blocking out that line of thinking for the moment, greets Raisa, and finds William already in his pajamas in bed.

“I’m glad Felicity got you home safely,” Oliver tells his son, hanging in the door frame, unsure of his invitation to enter.

“Yeah. You can come in if you want.”

Oliver walks toward William’s bed but doesn’t sit. “I hope…” Oliver stops, clearing his throat. This is so hard. But he’s got to be strong for his son. It’s not about just him and the team any more. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“Just a day in the life of the kid of the Green Arrow.”

Oliver sighs and goes over to William’s desk chair. He pulls it around so it’s in front of William. He’s close but not too close. They hug sometimes, but they haven’t gotten to a place where it’s automatic and always welcome. Oliver’s still treading lightly with him, letting him take the lead while trying to show that he’s loved no matter what. “William, I don’t want you to have to get used to any of this. I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. That’s why you have to stay with the driver. He’s your bodyguard.”

“I know but…”

“I’m also the mayor, so you’re just going to have to put up with it, okay?” Oliver tells him, feeling more fatherly than he ever has at that moment.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Oliver assures him.

“Is that kid okay?” asks William.

“He’s with his mother.”

“He’s lucky,” William mumbles, looking down at his lap. Oliver turns and picks up the stack of baseball cards on William’s dresser that he’d given him.

“You sure you like baseball?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

Oliver nods thoughtfully, then reveals, “My father used to take me to the games.  It was his favorite thing. But I was more into football. I just liked it because my dad and I did it together.” When William doesn’t respond, he continues, “Felicity was telling me about these conventions they have for superhero things and comic books.”

William lights up a glimmer. “Yeah! There’s one in Central City next month.”

“We could go —if you wanted to.”

His light dims immediately, and he shrugs. “I guess. If you have time.”

“I’ll make time,” Oliver assures him, standing up.

“If you’re still alive.”

“William.”

“I’m fine. Goodnight, Oliver,” he says, shutting the light off next to his bed and snuggling into his pillow. He called him Dad once on the island but hasn’t since. Oliver recalls, even in that moment of extreme terror and exhaustion the joy he felt hearing that word fall from his son’s lips. He longs to hear it again, but he knows it will come when the time is right.

Oliver heads toward the door, then stops once again before exiting. “I want you to know that it’s okay with me when you make mistakes. I just want to keep you safe. I love you, William. Goodnight.” William does not turn around.

Oliver re-enters the living room. Raisa appears from the kitchen, taking in Oliver’s face. “He just needs some time, you know.”

Oliver nods, feeling extremely comfortable moping in front of the woman who practically raised him. Her being here is like a godsend, and he’s so utterly grateful.

“I tell you what, Mr. Oliver… Why don’t you go unwind? Begin again tomorrow. I’ll be here tonight.”

“I shouldn’t just… I can’t.”

“You be here in the morning to make him those perfect pancakes of yours and talk again.”

Oliver nods. “I’ll go in a little while when I’m sure he’s asleep.”

Raisa smiles in understanding.

“Raisa?”

“Yes, Mr. Oliver?”

“What would you say about us moving into the old mansion one day? You know, if, I, uh, ever got married and…”

Raisa’s eyebrows lift. Oliver wonders he said something wrong. “I’d say you’ll find your own home one day. But maybe take William by it. He might like to see it.”

Oliver grins. “Yeah. Maybe I will one day. Thanks, Raisa.”

A few minutes later, Oliver hops in the shower. Refreshed and lightly cologned up, he changes into a pair of comfortable jeans and a sweater. Soon, William is asleep. Oliver is grateful his bedtime is set at 10pm because at 10:20pm, he’s knocking on Felicity’s door.

***

Felicity sits on her sofa in a tank top and a pair of her softest pajama bottoms with a freshly poured stemless glass of pink wine in her hand. She’s ready for the delicious liquid to hit the spot and smooth a bit of warmth in her heart for the moment – a cold substitute for her preferred type of medicine. At least, her sleep patterns are getting better. She’s determined to be strong for herself and those around her. She flips on her television and takes her first indulgent sip just as her cell rings. She picks it up from the coffee table in front of her. “Hello?”

“I decided to leave City Hall,” Thea’s voices filters through the receiver. “I want to work at Hope House full-time for a while. I think I could make a difference.”

“I love it. I totally love it,” says Felicity. She really does. Hearing Thea doing something for herself fills her with joy and a sense of sisterhood she can’t explain.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna do great,” she confirms.

“You don’t think Ollie will want to tar and feather me?”

“He’ll be happy for you. He loves you,” Felicity says, then after a beat spills out, “Actually, I’ve been thinking kinda the same thing. I want do something more… a company with my tech, and—”

“Oh my God!” Thea squeals. There’s that sisterhood thing. “I’ll totally be an investor! You have to do this.”

“Yeah. Thanks! I’ll, uh…”

A knock sounds on the door. “Thea, I’ll call you tomorrow, k?”

“Sure, sure. Talk soon.”

Felicity takes another sip of her wine before placing both it and her phone on the coffee table, then heads to the door. She looks through the peep hole. It’s Oliver. She pulls open the door without hesitation.

He stands there, shuffling his feet, not at all looking like there’s an actual emergency.  

“Hey,” he says in that soft voice he reserves for her.

“Hey,” she greets him.

They stare at each other for several beats until Oliver clears his throat.  “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Felicity gestures a welcome with a sweep of her arm and steps aside to let him in.

“I just wanted to…” Oliver starts then stops.

The next instant, they speak at the same time.

“Um, so Black Siren’s back,” Oliver blurts out as Felicity asks, “How’s William?”

Oliver scratches the back of his neck. “William’s asleep, and Raisa sort of kicked me out, told me to unwind.”

“Oh?”

“I just wanted to…” he trails off. He pinches his lips together, then puffs out a breath of air. “If it’d be okay to…?”

“Have movie night early and not talk about the re-emergence of Laurel’s doppelgänger that supposedly died on Lian Yu or the string of kidnappings loosely connected to your family’s former charity?” Felicity suggests with a tilt of her head and a quirk of her eyebrow.

Oliver nods, releasing a relieved breath.  

She knows him better than she knows herself. “I’ll pour you some wine.”

“Great.” Oliver looks at the drink in her glass as he settles on the sofa. “Pink wine.”

“You’ll love it.”

One and a half glasses of pink wine in, Felicity’s head rests on Oliver’s shoulder as the latest Star Wars rolls out of the first third of the movie. A bowl of popcorn sits in front of them. Felicity snuggles her cheek into his shoulder a bit, catching Oliver’s responding sigh completely. Warmth, the right kind, swirls through her body. This is right. They are right. “I’m ready, Oliver.”

“So am I,” he admits. She sits up to see his eyes slip shut as if he’s holding himself back. “So much.”

Felicity pauses the movie as she says, “But… we should give it more time.”

Oliver nods, then looks at her. “And I don’t want to push you.”

“You’re not. I promise.”

Oliver swallows as they hold each other’s gazes for a long beat. He nods again then sighs. “William hates me.” He looks down at his twiddling thumbs in his lap.

“He doesn’t. Oliver--”

Oliver turns and cups her face, cutting her off with a kiss. It’s short and sweet and promises nothing more than, “Soon.”

Felicity’s face heats, and she swallows. “Soon.” She pecks him another time before pulling back.

“Soon when?” he wants to know.

“Let’s just wait and see. Maybe a month or two?”

Oliver nods. “By the way, I need to show you something later. Tonight, I just want to exist and be with you… if that’s okay.”

“Roger that.” Felicity settles back into the sofa and pulls a throw over her legs. “Superhero switch officially off.” Oliver grabs a handful of popcorn and stuffs it into his mouth. He throws a piece at her. She retaliates. He tickles her feet. Her heart fills with light. They are slowly getting themselves back. Chase hadn’t won. Thugs like Ricardo Diaz and men in silver masks working with evil Earth 2 doppelgängers could never and would never stand in their way – not when they had each other.

***

From the top floor of the former Queen estate, in the former bedroom of Robert and Moira Queen, a dark figure stands in a smoking jacket at the large picture window overlooking the grounds. He flips over an old baseball card, Starling City Rockets -- looks vintage, possibly early 1980s. He pockets it, then ducks his head to peer through the telescope set up beside him. His gaze takes in the whole of Star City in the distance.

“One step at a time, Mr. Queen. One step at a time.”

The figure turns, his dark shoes avoiding the stream of a pungent substance soaked into the carpet. When he reaches the bedroom door, the man takes out a lighter and drops it. He shuts the door behind him.

Minutes later, his gloved hand slides the front door shut. A silver and black Rolls Royce slides up the drive and stops in front of him. He gets inside. As the man and his driver pull off the grounds, the former Queen family estate begins its journey into a pile of ash and rubble. 

END

 

 


	4. The Masks We Wear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by: Shelby (arrow_through_my_writers_block)  
> Beta'd by: Janis (so_caffeinated)
> 
> I just want to thank everyone for reading and enjoying this rewrite so far! The support and interest warms our hearts! Thank you! -Shelby

The scent of crackling fireplaces and long dormant heating units whirring to life floods the crisp autumn air, giving warmth and comfort to families.. Oliver hops from rooftop to rooftop, a jumble of voices in his ear reciting locations and numbers and speculation about the thugs they are pursuing. It all blurs into a strange sort of background ambiance for the night. It could be peaceful were it not for the criminal activity and the bow strapped to his back.

“You said they were masked, right?” Dinah asks Felicity.

“Correct. But not our kind of masks. More like discount  _ Party City  _ Halloween masks. I’d bet money there’s at least one Flash.”

Oliver chuckles. Felicity’s need to always lighten the mood and intensity of a situation is a staple of their team dynamic. Without it, patrols would feel so static and too formal, and the insanity and losses of the last few months might overwhelm him. He hops onto another warehouse rooftop - some sort of big box, bulk shopping store - and then crouches low on the edge. “I can see them. I think one is wearing a Trump mask.”

“Orange face? Pouty baby lips?” Curtis asks.

“Definitely.”

“Yep, that’s Trump,” Rene’s sardonic tone comes through the comms in reply. Oliver can see him in an alleyway across the street, crouched with guns in hand. Behind him, Dinah stands with her bo staff clutched behind her back for easy maneuvering, ready for anything.

“How many we got, exactly?” Digg asks from a rooftop across the street. Metallic clicks and the rustling of leather follow Digg’s voice through the comms as he triple checks his magazines and readies his guns.

“I count six,” Rene says. “This is gonna be a pretty easy take down.”

Curtis laughs. “Wanna play with them a bit?”

Oliver looks down at the assortment of costumed thugs. Their masks limit their vision. Their backpacks and bulky rifles limit movement. “Digg, do you have the grappling device?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s…  _ swoop in _ .”

After a moment, Digg’s low rumble of a chuckle sounds on the comms and then he confirms, “Gotcha.”

“Once we’ve scared them senseless, you guys can surround them and take them in.”

“Affirmative.”

“You got it, Hoss.”

“But this was my idea…” Curtis mumbles then adds, slightly deflated, “Got it.”

The thugs cluster together in front of a loading dock on the side of the building as Oliver watches on. It is still unknown what these thugs want with an ordinary neighborhood grocer, but they bicker about how to get in and what to do if they get caught.

Oliver nocks the grappling arrow and aims at an overhang on the roof. Then he swings down, soaring over the alleyways and directly above the group of criminals. One looks up just as Oliver swoops up and onto the roof, out of sight.

“What the fuck!”

“What’s your problem?” one of the other men hisses, hands locked on the lever to the warehouse door.

“Did you see that?”

Oliver peeks over the edge of the roof to see the other men shrugging. “Do we look like a bunch of babies to you? Man up!”

Diggle swings down, the rough knuckles of his gloves scraping against the wall, loud and insistent. “There it is again!” Then Diggle disappears onto the roof; Oliver hears a chuckle over the comms.

“You really need to relax man,” the leader of the thugs hisses from inside his bat-like mask. “There’s nothing here.”

“I’m not crazy! I saw something zooming around above us. And then I heard it!”

The entire group of thugs laugh. “What? Afraid the Flash is gonna get ya?” More laughter.

Oliver gives Curtis a nod and they both swoop down, Oliver with his grappling arrow and Curtis from one of the fire escapes on the building across the alley. They scrape the wall and stomp on the iron bars, then shoot back up onto their respective buildings. All of the thugs turn their attention overhead to find nothing there. “What the fuck?” the leader murmurs.

“I told you!”

Oliver grins, then gives the order to move in.

The team descends upon the collection of thugs quickly, weapons at the ready. In the blink of an eye they surround the group. A few men howl complaints and one whimpers in fear.

“Looking to steal some fresh produce, gentlemen?” Rene asks as he saunters over, projecting his voice over the group’s protests. “Or perhaps some cheese to go along with your whine…”

An anxious would-be thief in a tattered Michael Myers mask tilts his head to one side, confused. “But we don’t have any wine.”

The leader grabs his collar. “Shut up, man!”

Oliver steps in front of the rest of the team. “Would you like to tell us what you find so interesting about a neighborhood grocery store?”

The leader spits onto the ground, bat mask still firmly attached to his face. Oliver looks into the man’s eyes and is met with defiance, solid as a wall. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, Arrow Boy.”

Oliver draws his bow and selects the arrow with magnetized synthetic cords strung through it. He narrows his eyes at the thugs. “It’s  _ Green Arrow _ , and I think it’s time for you to have a chat with police.” He lets the arrow fly and it breaks apart mid-air into a soaring line of cord. The moment it hits the leader, the length of the trick arrow extends out and around the cluster of men until the ends connect, magnets secured tight.

“Is that really necessary?” Dinah asks, arms crossed and eyes rolling as the thugs behind her struggle fruitlessly to break free.

Felicity’s voice echoes through the comms. “Just sent a tip to the SCPD. You can all head back.”

“Affirmative, Overwatch,” Oliver says, then turns to leave.

Rene steps close to the leader and pokes the man’s bat mask. “Nice masks, fools.”

“That’s rich comin’ from masked wannabe heroes.”

Rene shrugs. “I ain’t no hero, buddy. But at least my mask didn’t come from the party store.”

 

***

 

They return to the bunker, Curtis and Rene in fits of laughter. 

“I still can’t believe that dumbass actually thought I meant wine,” Rene exclaims as he rips his mask off. “How has he never heard that expression before?”

The team begins the process of shedding their layers and weapons. Oliver turns away from the group and heads to the platform in the middle of the bunker, voices fading with each step. His boots, silent on most surfaces, squeak against the metal ramp and his leather pants rustle with every stride. An erratic tapping floats on the air: the tell tale sound of Felicity’s frantic typing. Click, clack, click. Clack, click, click-clack. Then it stops.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her chair spin around to face him, brow arched in anticipation for his question.

“So, any idea what they were wanting to steal?”

“I was hoping you’d ask because I found the craziest thing online.”

Oliver grins. “Define crazy when we live in a world with magic and aliens…”

She holds up a finger. “Just you wait, Oliver. Trust me.” She turns away from him and begins methodically typing.

“You know I do.”

She hesitates at his words, then continues her typing. After a few moments, the screen fills with a video clearly filmed from a phone in a grocery store similar to the one they just aided. A man stands in the middle of the produce section arguing with an employee.

In his hands is a bunch of bananas.

The argument escalates until the man rips the skins off one of the bananas and takes a bite. The employee is frantic and more people have gathered to watch. Then, the man drops the rest of the fruit and cradles his stomach.

“So a man ate a banana. What does that have to do with the men we apprehended tonight?”

Felicity glares at Oliver. “This isn’t over.”

Oliver continues to watch until a strange cloud begins to emanate from the man’s body, out of his pores. The closest shoppers scream in pain, quickly escaping proximity of the man. But the cloud grows, filling the produce section with the man at the center, groaning. Then, as quickly as the situation began, an explosion of gaseous particles takes the place of the man and the video ends.

Grappling to make sense of the footage he just watched, Oliver’s mouth drops open. “What was that exactly?”

Felicity shrugs. “Not sure. Looks like some sort of gas emitting meta.”

“Did you contact S.T.A.R. Labs?”

“That was my first step. They said they took care of the issue a few days after it happened. But the video went viral. My bet is that those thugs thought it was the bananas that did it.”

Oliver scrubs his face with his hands. “Was it?”

Again, Felicity shrugs. “It appears that patient zero was simply allergic to the bananas and it triggered a metahuman reaction to protect himself. But the gases were toxic to the surrounding people.”

“So you think Star City lowlifes could be attempting to weaponize bananas?”

“When you word it that way, I’d really like to say no.”

Oliver lets out a chuckle. He’s been waiting for her to give the go-ahead - to allow them to start again, fresh and new. These moments of effortless communication and humor echo of what he lost and how he allowed it to all come crashing down. The wrong words. Bad timing. Choices made that shouldn’t have been. Looking at Felicity now, he can see she’s close to saying yes… close to opening back up.

A few months before, they had shared a kiss under dire circumstances, and then another over some popcorn and couch cuddles. He wants desperately to hold onto it, to believe that these moments have led to a turning point. But things are very different now. His  _ life  _ is different now. Felicity knows that.

So, he simply enjoys the moments they share, big or small. He cherishes the focus on her face when she’s in the middle of a hack and the glimmer in her eyes when they converse about something as simple as their days or the details of a mission, all the while fighting back the memories of their more intimate past.

“What’s the dealio?” Curtis asks as he hops up onto the platform to stand beside Oliver.

“When was the last time you heard the word  _ dealio  _ used in normal conversation?” Dinah chides.

Curtis glares at her, then lifts a finger. “One. You heard it just now. And two. Since when are our conversations deemed  _ normal _ ?”

Oliver points at Curtis in agreement. “He has a point.”

Dinah waves off the entire exchange and waits for Felicity to show the team the footage he just watched. Rene rushes up the ramp and then Felicity clicks play. Once it ends, Curtis snorts. “So, we have a threat of weaponized bananas.”

 

***

 

Oliver returns home to find William sleeping on the couch, video game controller in hand and head half off a throw pillow. Raisa relaxes nearby in an armchair reading a well worn paperback, edges frayed and spine broken.

“Ah, Mr. Oliver,” she murmurs as he tosses his jacket aside, her voice rough with exhaustion. “I trust your evening was…  _ eventful _ ?”

Oliver nods. “How was he?”

Raisa shrugs. “Much the same, Mr. Oliver. Struggling with some of his homework, but I made sure he did as much of it as he could before he turned on the video games.”

“And he ate dinner?”

Raisa nods. “Of course he did. He loves my cooking.”

“Like father like son, I suppose.”

Oliver moves toward the couch and nudges William gently. “Hey, buddy…”

The pre-teen protests the gentle nudge away from dreams and drapes his arm over his face with a grumble.

“Buddy, you gotta get into bed.”

William sits up, eyes slits against the living room lights. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you to bed.”

The boy nods and Oliver leads him to his bedroom, socks padding against the hard flooring  with soft footfalls and the blanket he’d been using trailing from his arms. Once in the room, William collapses onto the bed and drifts back into slumber in the blink of an eye, mouth agape and breathing soft and even.

Oliver remains there for a few minutes, simply watching his son. They’ve made plenty of progress in the few months since the island, but distance still remains between them, the gap only slightly bridged. The light from the hallway spills onto William’s bed, shrouding him in a soft glow. He looks so peaceful. So vulnerable. Oliver’s heart aches for his son and the trauma he’s endured.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked. He shuts off the hall light and makes his way back to the living room where Raisa is shutting off the television and the small table lights, tidying up for the evening.

“I’ll take care of that, Raisa,” Oliver says. “Get some sleep.”

Raisa  nods. “Thank you, Mr. Oliver.” Walking away, she pats his shoulder affectionately in much the same way she had throughout Oliver’s childhood. With a squeeze of his arm or a pat of his head, she’d been a steady source of motherly comfort and show of support. He silently thanks the universe for Raisa being free to help him in his new parental life. Her presence offers William a woman’s influence in his life that would be lacking otherwise.

Silence falls across the living room and Oliver closes his eyes, embracing it. He breathes in and breathes out, centering himself in the domestic quiet and his role within it. Then, he turns off the remaining lights and makes his way to his bedroom.

Once inside, he begins to undress. He slips into his sweatpants and crawls into bed, feeling the stress of the day melt away. He glances at his phone and sees a text from Felicity.

_ 2:24am: I forgot to check in today. How is William? How are you? And no b.s. about being fine. I’m asking honestly. _

He smiles at the matter-of-fact, no nonsense approach Felicity takes with her texting, but the smile slips away quickly. He knows she sees his worries and his stresses. She sees right past his walls and right through his masks. He can’t keep lying to her.

He reaches over and opens the drawer to his bedside table, retrieving the throwing star wrapped in black cloth.  _ Adrian’s throwing star.  _ He shakes his head at the thought. “Adrian is dead,” he recites, over and over. A dark mantra. A painful reminder.

But the throwing star is there, solid and deadly in his hand. He wraps it up and drops it back into the bedside table, working through his thoughts before answering Felicity.

_ 2:55am: William is okay. Struggling with homework and I’d guess still adjusting to life here. _

_ 2:55am: I’m doing okay. There’s something I need to talk to you about - something I need your help with. I can’t explain it without seeming crazy.  _

_ 2:56am: Maybe I am crazy. _

Oliver waits for a response. He knows he has to bring this to Felicity. He knows he has to be honest with her. If Chase is alive, she  _ has _ to know about it.

_ 2:59am: It can’t be that crazy, and you most DEFINITELY are not crazy. But I’m free tomorrow at 3 if you want to meet. _

He doesn’t hesitate.

_ 3:00am: 3 is perfect. _

 

***

  
  


William paces the hallway, impatient. He looks around, glances at his watch and even taps his foot. The similarity to his father crosses his mind and he wonders how much like the mayor he appears; he’s seen Oliver do similar things before and the habit has rubbed off on him. But perhaps he looks more like his mother. He stops every impatient movement as he realizes that he cannot easily pull up an exact memory of her face. He remembers random details: the scent of her favorite lotion and matching hand sanitizer, the smile she gave him when he came home from school, and the sound of her voice. But an image of her face in its entirety… he cannot conjure that up on his own. 

He looks up expectantly toward the entrance to the school. Zoe said she would be here by now - promised she would be there for the planning meeting for the Halloween Festival. He fidgets, thumb and index finger rubbing together in anxiety. “Your dad does that,” Aunt Thea once explained to him when she saw it, an amused smirk slanting across her lips. How many habits of his father’s has he acquired?

The door opens and Zoe appears. She waves enthusiastically and William’s nerves subside. A friendly, understanding face gives him confidence in the midst of all the changes he’s gone through - adjustments and new experiences. And Zoe has been through a lot of the same. So much in common that he never expected to share with anyone else. “Hey!” she shouts.

“Hey!” he says back with a smirk.

“I thought you would already be inside.”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for you.”

“So we’re still asking for a haunted house, right?” Zoe asks.

Will nods. “Yep. I think they’ll go for it. I mean, isn’t that what Halloween is about?”

They turn and open the door to the classroom, ready to make the Halloween Festival everything they could want.

 

***

 

Oliver leans back in his chair with a quiet, long held in sigh as the councilwoman leaves in a fury. As the door to his office closes, Oliver covers his face with his hands and fights the urge to scream. He cares about his city. He cares about the work he can do as a political official. But the shaking of hands and continuous game of flattery and ass-kissing infuriates him about as much as his stoic stubbornness infuriated the councilwoman. 

After a few moments of breathing exercises that don’t help him, he checks his watch. Ten minutes. Ten minutes until he’s face-to-face with Felicity Smoak once more. Ten minutes until he has to remind himself that daydreaming isn’t appropriate. Ten minutes until he has to fight his urge to reenact some of his darkest office fantasies with Felicity.

He throws his head back against the chair’s headrest and groans. “Fuck.” The simple thought of fantasies has him recalling their trip around the world, all sex and laughter and sun-kissed skin. He can see Felicity sprawled out on a beach towel, naked and glowing in the tropical sunshine. He can see her seated across from him, teeth biting her bottom lip, her eyes warm and pleading to match. He can see her slick skin against the wall of many showers. Indoor. Outdoor. Tiled and glass. All of the scenarios more luxurious and erotic as the last.

A knock on his door cuts through his recollections. “Um, come in,” he calls to the closed door. He glances, once more, at his watch to see that ten minutes have already ticked completely by.

The door opens and Felicity steps into the room, closing the door behind her. “Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey,” he responds. He studies her for a moment, taking in her every detail. Loose curls frame her face and his heart skips a beat when he sees the vivid red painting her lips. Her body is draped in a dark coat, the hint of a pencil skirt poking out from the bottom hem. Her red heels perfectly match her lips.

“So,” she begins as she sits across from him. He has to war with his eyes to remain locked on anything other than her lips. “What crazy thing do you need to talk to me about?”

Oliver uses the prompt as a chance to look away and retrieve the throwing star. He unlocks his desk drawer and takes the weapon out, sliding it across the desk to Felicity. It stops just shy of the edge.

Felicity’s eyes widen and her hands grip the arms of her chair. “Is that-”

“Chase’s throwing star?”

Felicity nods.

“I think so.”

“Where did it come from?”

“It came in the mail.”

Her posture grows rigid as she studies the weapon and her chest rises with quickened breaths. Felicity holds the throwing star closer to her eyes and squints. “How could this be Chase’s?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Felicity pushes her glasses higher onto her nose and sighs. “Well, for one, he’s dead. But also, you’re the only one who should have any of these, and I doubt anyone else had access to his arsenal.”

Oliver ponders her words. “Then how did someone send this to me?”

Felicity shakes her head. “I have no idea, but I’d like to compare this with some of the ones in our evidence collections.”

“We have evidence collections?”

Felicity’s lips form into a small red ‘o’ and then she smiles innocently. “You heard _nothing_ , Mr. Mayor.”

 

***

 

Back at home, Oliver finds William and Thea sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of notebooks and textbooks spread around them. “Hey, buddy… Speedy…”

“Hey Ollie,” Thea says warmly. “William needs some help with his homework and I’ve just remembered how bad I was in school.”

“I can relate to that.”

“We can take a break,” William suggests as he pushes the mathematics textbook away from himself and grabs a notebook. He opens it and begins looking over his notes. “How about we discuss this stupid Halloween Festival.”

Thea perks up and eyes the notebook. “A festival at school? Those are always terrible.”

“You have no idea,” WIlliam groans. He points at one of the notes. “They didn’t like our idea. All we asked for was a haunted house.”

“Like, a walk-through haunted house?” Oliver asks.

William nods. “Yes! Exactly. When we brought it up, the teachers and parents instantly disagreed. They said it would be too scary and  _ potentially offensive _ .” William’s disdain is etched in the emphasis of his quote, almost mocking. “Zoe even mentioned how it could be a really fun project for students. They still said no.”

“I never had haunted houses at our Halloween festivals either,” Thea said, voice distant and sad.

“Well, I love them,” William adds in. Oliver can see he’s frustrated and understands exactly why; he’s been ignored by adults and made to feel inferior, as if his ideas aren’t worth their time. “We had them at my old school. One for the older kids and one for the younger kids. And you don’t  _ have to _ go in them.”

Thea nods sympathetically, then perks up suddenly. “Will, why don’t you do your reading assignment. Maybe it’ll take your mind off of everything.”

William rests his head against the table, defeated. “Fine,” he groans out, then drags a small paperback to rest in front of his face, much too close to comfortably read from. Oliver chuckles.

Thea leaves the table and grasps Oliver’s arm, violently dragging him down the hall and out of earshot from the dining room. “I have an idea!”

Oliver grins. “That’s obvious, Speedy.”

“Ollie, we should throw a big party!”

“Party?”

“Halloween party… nay,  _ festival _ .”

“Why?”

Thea throws her hands up in annoyance. “Did you not see how miserable your son looked about the school ignoring his idea?”

Oliver shrugs. “I did. But if the school doesn’t want to fund a haunted house, they h-"

Thea puts a finger to Oliver’s lips and glares at him. “They have the right to say no, and we have the right to host our own.” She drops her hand and lets it rest on her hip. She waits for Oliver to speak, but he doesn’t. “Maybe the mayor’s office could team up with Hope House and throw an all ages fundraising festival. We can get haunted houses, carnival games, music and food…”

Oliver’s brows raise. “Why is this so important to you?”

Thea’s excitement wanes a bit and Oliver watches as she struggles with something… a deeply rooted pain. And he knows that pain well. Finally she sighs. “I miss our family parties. The grand scale. The guests all dressed in costumes and the warm autumn lighting. I even miss bobbing for those damn sour apples. I miss the mansion and it decked out in golden lights. Ollie, we have the chance to bring that back, but for something more than just reputation and status.”

Her words transport Oliver down a brief rabbit hole to their childhoods at Queen Manor. The parties. The galas. The grandeur of their home with the expensive furnishings and priceless art pieces, along with creepy old hallways and spooky creaking doors. So many games of hide and seek played out in the unoccupied wings of the manor, hiding behind drapes or in large wardrobes. One time, Thea was convinced the wardrobe in their parents’ bedroom was the same one that sent the Pevensie children to Narnia, all the while Oliver knew it simply housed their mother’s numerous coats and dress suits. All of it’s gone now, turned to ash in a mysterious case of arson.

“Give me a budget and I’ll see what I can do.”

Thea jumps up and into Oliver’s arms excitedly, much as she might have done a decade ago. “I promise this’ll be amazing. Should I tell William or keep it a secret?”

Oliver frowns. “Keep it a secret unless he really starts to get down about the school festival. But, I think a surprise like this is just what he needs from family.”

They shake on the deal before going back into the dining room just in time for Raisa to bring out dinner. She smiles. “A full house! Lovely!”

 

***

 

Felicity is the first to arrive in the bunker; that is her habit and she does not plan on breaking it. The silence is deafening as she switches on the lights and brings their systems to a whirring life. Her screens brighten and the backlights behind the team’s suits flicker on, casting shadows upon the floor and marking the leather with an eerie glow. 

She drops her purse onto her desk and collapses into the chair, heart racing and nerves on edge. Inside her purse, wrapped in a piece of black cloth, is the throwing star. Logically she knows it weighs very little, but she could swear it has added twenty pounds to her already hefty purse.

_ It cannot be Chase’s,  _ she reminds herself.  _ There’s no way it is Chase’s. _

Standing, she makes her way to the closet just off from the main room of the bunker, the clicking of her heels almost beating in time with her frantic heart. She turns the doorknob and switches on the light to find their small collection of old evidence. Weapons. Clothing. Files. DNA results. Everything piled in boxes and containers, or stuffed into filing cabinets. This closet - this collection - represents so much. Their missions. Their failures. Their aspirations. Every emotion and experience left in a utility closet to collect dust.

She reaches for a metal tool drawer and opens it carefully to reveal an assortment of daggers, bullets and arrowheads. Toward the back rests the only other throwing star they were able to steal away from police evidence. It is spotless, untarnished and clear of any scrapes or scuffs. The foam lining of the drawer keeps it from moving around when the drawer is jostled. Felicity lifts it away from the cushioning and eyes it like a pest ready to be exterminated. Chase took so much away from them - especially from Oliver and William - and holding one of the weapons from his arsenal makes her skin crawl.

Leaving the closet, Felicity grabs her purse and heads toward their makeshift lab. She places the two throwing stars beside one another, identically angled and perfectly flat on the table.

At first glance, they appear identical. The same lines. The same sharp edges. The same balance. She retrieves a set of jeweler’s glasses and sets the magnification to double. The change brings all of the differences out into plain sight and she grins, happy that she was right with her initial speculation and hope.

_ This is not Chase’s throwing star. _

 

***

 

“Tell me again why we can’t throw bananas at them from the shadows?” Rene asks, annoyed.

Oliver’s patience grows thinner with the question. “We’ve already broken into the grocery store. We don’t need to destroy product on top of that.”

“I’m sure they’d still be edible.”

Curtis laughs. “But the bananas would be bruised. No one wants bruised bananas.”

“As we have already stated, we  _ are not  _ weaponizing bananas,” Felicity groans through the comms. “It is bad enough that these gangs want to.”

“Exactly. So just be quiet and don’t use anything that isn’t already a weapon.”

The team is silent for a moment, then Diggle - silent for the entire exchange - murmurs, “Anything can become a weapon.”

Oliver chooses to ignore that, instead focusing on the dark, lifeless grocery store they are holed up in. Streetlights stream in from the glass windows and doors at the front, casting the aisles of shelving in ghostly shadows, illuminating very little. The produce section is the only spot in the store with any consistent noise. The cold misters kick on at regular intervals to keep the product fresh and ready for the morning shoppers to arrive in just a few hours.

He is crouched between a display of pre-portioned meals and a stack of two liter sodas facing the produce section. They’ve been there for a few hours, waiting. Intel suggested that this grocery store and its collection of recalled bananas would be the next target for the wannabe metas. But none of the bananas are separated for removal.

“Overwatch, are you absolutely  _ sure  _ they chose this one?”

Felicity scoffs. Oliver imagines her posture and the hand that has most likely clutched at her chest in clear offense. “Are you questioning my skills, Green Arrow?”

He grins at the challenge in her voice. “I would  _ never _ .”

“It sounds like you are. Which is hilarious when, FYI, there’s currently a cluster of bodies swarming the employee entrance right now.”

And, as if on cue, crashes and the shattering of glass sound from the employee entrance on the other side of the building from them, the tell tale sign of the back windows breaking. Oliver’s grin widens. “I apologize for questioning the accuracy of your intel, Overwatch,” he says playfully.

“You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Ew,” Rene breathes out, comms muted.

Diggle chokes on a laugh. Curtis feigns vomiting.

”That’s not what she m-”

“It is,” everyone interrupts in unison.

Oliver’s embarrassment solidifies into a blush that cascades all over his body, warming within the leather that encases him. For once, he is one hundred percent happy that he wears a hood and mask.  _ Are we really flirting? Is it that obvious? _

As he ponders the direction their relationship is taking, the thugs continue to make a ruckus in the employee rooms and storage, searching for the recalled product. After a few minutes, five men in black clothing and absurd Halloween masks enter the store proper. As the exterior lights shine on the masks, he can spot a variety of sort-of familiar faces: Jason Voorhees, a grim reaper, some happy snowman with buck-teeth, a Flash and some strange fuzzy blue thing resembling a Muppet.

“Where’s produce?” a familiar voice rings out from one of the masked figures.  _ That one thug from the other night. _

“Green Arrow,” Rene hisses. “Is that the whiner?”

Oliver nods. “Yes.”

They watch as the thugs emerge and snake their way around the displays of fruits and vegetables, feet careful to not make noise. The figures reach the large shelf stocked with piles of banana bushels. “I thought these were supposed to be recalled.” the whiner says, reaching for the stack. Oliver can now see he is the one in the snowman mask.

“That’s what the news report said. Oh well. We’re already here. Might as well take ‘em.”

“How many we need?” happy snowman asks.

“How many people agreed to become freaks?”

The Muppet-faced thug tilts his head. “Thirty?”

“So thirty bananas. Gotcha.”

Oliver gives the signal and Curtis sends his T-Spheres spiraling toward the group of men. They whiz and whirl, then hover just outside of the huddle before unleashing a little electric zap. The men’s screams cut off as four of them collapse, leaving the cowardly whiner standing.

“Not again!” he shouts. He inches closer to the display.

“I suggest you back away slowly,” Oliver growls out. He retrieves an arrow from the quiver and nocks it.

The man tugs his mask off, revealing a wild eyed young man in his early twenties with a patchy mustache. Once the mask hits the floor he reaches for a bushel and detaches a banana from it, then peels it frantically. “I’ll eat it!” he shouts; a wild animal caught in a cage with nothing to lose. “I’ll gas you!”

Oliver’s lips turn up into a grin and he lowers his bow just slightly. “Go ahead.”

Behind him, he can hear Diggle fighting back laughter and Curtis’ T-Spheres hovering above his hands before dropping. Rene’s guns are raised still, trained on the man. Oliver knows Rene is smiling behind his mask. The man gobbles half the banana, chewing quickly, mouth open so bits and pieces fall to the floor with nasty splats. The man swallows the bite and closes his eyes, waiting.

Nothing happens. The man frowns and stuff the remainder of the banana into his mouth, desperate for results.

“You’re not gonna gas us,” Oliver explains. “It was a chance reaction for that one man. A banana allergy mixed with a metahuman mutation. None of which you possess. And recalled bananas aren’t the answer either. So I suggest you stand down.”

The man tosses the banana peel over his head and draws a gun. But he hesitates just long enough for Oliver to fire his arrow. It soars toward the man and collapses into cord upon impact, pinning the man’s arms to his sides. The gun drops to the ground, smushing clumps of chewed banana. “Not again!”

 

***

 

They enter the bunker laughing. 

“While I think this is probably the most entertaining thing to happen in years,” Rene begins as he removes his gun belt and holsters from his waist. “I’d like to get back to real fights. Dangerous, secretive assholes. Y’know. The norm.”

Curtis raises his hand. “Same.”

Oliver nods and Diggle hums his agreement. “Maybe you could put out a press release, directed at these idiots,” Digg says as he unzips his leather jacket.

Heels click against the ground and Felicity joins their circle, finger raised. “That could be interesting. A joint press conference with the police department to discourage any more of this. It is silly. A nuisance, really. There are probably scarier villains out there just using this as a way to lie in wait.”

“Contact S.T.A.R. Labs and get whatever data they have on the original meta. Have them send it both to my office and the SCPD. I’ll talk to Dinah arranging the press conference.”

Oliver walks away, toward the restroom, slowly unzipping his jacket. Heels click in pursuit behind him, almost in rhythm with his heart. Before he hits the bathroom door, he turns around and Felicity collides against him in surprise. Her hands rest on his bare chest and her lips open in shock, but she does not move. Her thumbs draw circles along his skin and it takes all of his will power not to pin her to the wall. Her lips are achingly plump and colored pink - his favorite pink lipstick that she wears. He forces his eyes away from her mouth and sees she’s struggling just as much as he is. He knows that expression… that desperate and longing look that she’s wearing. He used to draw it out with teasing when they were together; that expression with an intoxicating flurry of whimpers and light moans.

He clears his throat. “Yes?”

Her hands drop from his chest and she looks around, embarrassment warming her cheeks. “About that… thing…”

“Thing?”

She rolls her eyes, then mouths: “Throwing Star.”

“Oh, yeah. What about it?”

“I have some news on it.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Not here.” Then without thinking he blurts out, “Tomorrow at my place?”

Felicity’s brows rise up in surprise. She pushes her glasses up higher on her nose as she ponders his words. “Your place?”

“Maybe for dinner?” Oliver asks, hopeful.

Her mouth forms into a little ‘o’ and she tilts her head. “With you and William?”

“And Raisa.”

He watches as she hesitates and struggles. She looks hopeful and scared all at once.

“Are you… are you sure that’s okay?”

He nods. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He waits for her to answer but she does not. So he adds: “So tomorrow?”

Her head does a weird bobble and then she smiles. “Sure!”

“Seven okay for you?”

“Seven’s perfect.”

 

***

 

It is Friday. Last day to do things in the office and the best day to take care of the press conference. Oliver expects that there will be an influx of thugs still attempting to contract the metahuman powers thanks to the viral video over the weekend, but at least the store owners can be prepared for it. Cameras flash and the low hum of chatter toy with his nerves; no matter how many times he’s been part of events like this - some far more important than this one - he always seems to get the jitters. 

“You got it all planned, Oliver?” Dinah asks. She’s watching the crowd from the side of the room where they are waiting, out of view from the crowd but with a perfect vantage point to eavesdrop.

He nods. “With a little dramatic flair to add in as well.”

Dinah raises a brow. “Dramatic flair?”

“Just trust me.”

She chuckles. “You know I do.”

A few Star City police officers begin to quiet down the crowd and Oliver takes the stage, his suit pressed and American flag pin straight and shining on his lapel. Camera flash once more, nearly blinding him. “Good afternoon,” he begins, voice a boom over the silent room. “Over the last few nights, teams of street criminals of unknown affiliation have been breaking into our local grocery stores in the hopes of stealing recalled produce to recreate this viral video.”

He nods and Dinah presses play on the video. It runs and the crowd collectively whispers. Once the video has finished, Oliver addresses the crowd once more.

“Upon further research into this event, it has been found by S.T.A.R. Labs that the original metahuman only transformed due to a dormant meta mutation interacting with their allergy toward bananas. But the men using this as their inspiration do not know this. They believe that the bananas in our stores, specifically any potentially recalled bananas, will give them metahuman abilities. A number of these break-ins have been interrupted this week, but if more are to come, the shop owners need to be ready with security.”

The crowd continues their whispers and the constant flash of cameras. He turns to Dinah.

“The SCPD has compiled a list of private security companies willing to send officers out to deter these crimes. If any store owners would like to take them up on this offer, call the department directly or call our offices and we’ll provide the list as well.” Oliver reaches into the small shelf of the podium and finds the banana he requested. He pulls it out, begins to peel it and smiles up at the numerous cameras, both filming and snapping photos. “These are not the cause of this metahuman viral sensation.” He takes a bite of the fruit, chews and swallows, then grins. “This is just your everyday banana.”

 

***

 

He returns to his office after the press conference to find Speedy seated in his chair. “Y’know, this is a really comfortable chair,” she admires with a smile so like their mother’s that it gives Oliver pause. His sister has grown up before his eyes, but it still surprises him how much of Moira has seeped into Thea’s expressions and movements; it is a sad reminder of their loss, but a continued presence that somehow comforts him. 

He walks over to her and spins the chair slightly. “Out.”

“Bad day?”

He shrugs. “I never thought I’d have to explain to the city that bananas will not cause them to turn into gas monsters. But here we are.”

“It was a great press conference, though. I especially liked the ending. Just the right amount of your old school dickishness.”

“That was not what I was going for, Speedy.”

She chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who saw your old self in that moment. Everyone else just saw an impatient mayor wanting to drive home a point while also getting their daily serving of potassium.”

He laughs. “What’s up, Speedy?”

She moves and sits along the edge of the desk beside him, giving him room to collapse into his chair. Once he settles in she hands him a piece of paper with financial figures. “This is how much Hope House is willing to part with for my festival,” she says, pointing. Then her finger moves to a figure lower on the paper. “And that’s how much the city will be expected to contribute.”

He eyes the number, then shifts his gaze up to his sister’s hopeful expression. “That’s honestly not that much.”

She nods enthusiastically. “We have a lot of vendors willing to donate their services, so there’s not much that needs paying for besides a venue and such.”

“Would the Star City park be good enough?”

She nods. “Without a doubt! That’s perfect!” Thea throws her arms around his neck and squeezes tight. He’s reminded of their younger days… long before he turned into the self-centered playboy and actually cared to spend time with her. But he quickly masks the melancholy the memories create. “Just let me know once the proper permits have been obtained. I’m thinking about hosting this on October 27th, the Friday before Halloween.”

He nods. “Sounds perfect. I’ll let you know.”

She beams. “Thanks again, Ollie. This is gonna be so much fun, I just know it!”

 

***

 

“What’s your favorite horror movie?” Zoe asks as they walk down the hall toward the exit.

William thinks about it, head tilted and hands gripped tight to his backpack straps. “Mom didn’t really let me watch too many. But I did really like  _ Nightmare on Elm Street _ .”

He glances over to find Zoe considering his answer with a serious expression on her face. Brows furrowed, eyes turned up in thought. Then she nods in approval. “Old school. Nice choice.”

“What’s yours, then?”

They push the doors open and then she says, “ _ The Conjuring _ .”

“Isn’t that about a haunting and exorcisms?”

Zoe nods. “Yep. I like all that paranormal stuff.”

The light of day seems at odds with the conversation, but the falling leaves and slight chill to the air reminds William that anything is possible and spooky things are abundant, all waiting to be experienced in the autumn. “You believe all that stuff?”

She shrugs dismissively. “Some of it.”

William looks up to see his dad leaning against the car, waving at him. He’s never done with work in time to pick him up from school. He stops for a moment and turns toward Zoe. “Maybe we can watch that movie sometime.”

“That’d be awesome!” Zoe exclaims, beaming.

They stand there for a few moments, just staring at each other, then they part ways with little more than a ‘see you!’ When he steps up to the car, his father is grinning. “What?” William asks, face growing warm for some odd reason.

“Nothing,” Oliver says, hands exiting his pockets as he opens the backdoor to let William in. Then he makes his way to the driver’s side. “Nothing at all.”

 

***

 

Felicity stands in her closet, clothes strewn across the floor and nothing on her body but her favorite bra and panties. She’s made no progress and her dinner with Oliver is in an hour. “Casual or the usual?” she asks the empty room. “Casual or the dress I wore earlier?” 

When no decision happens, she grabs her phone and leans against the wall, then plops down onto the floor facing her mirror. She dials the number from memory.

“Hello?” Digg’s voice sounds on the other end.

“Hey! Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I’m just setting the dinner table. What’s up?”

She takes a deep breath and then lets it all out. “I have a dinner with Oliver in an hour and I have no idea what this dinner means. On the one hand, it is at his home with William and Raisa so it clearly isn’t a romantic thing, but he doesn’t really invite me there these days. You know, with everything going on it is easier to leave it alone. But-"

“Felicity-"

“...I really don’t know what to do cause we’ve been flirting a lot lately so I’m sorta getting mixed signals and-"

“Felicity!”

She stops. “Yes?”

“Do you  _ want  _ the meal to be romantic?”

She considers the question, then scrunches her nose. “Not with William there, I guess. But…”

Diggle sighs, then the quality of the call shifts and Lyla’s voice cuts into the conversation. “Felicity, if you want to make this dinner mean something more than it might have been intended, go for it. You guys have been putting this off for far too long anyways.” Felicity can hear the clinking of dinnerware and knows they have sat down for dinner. “Also, I’m sick of John coming home to tell me about your nausea-inducing flirtation. So please, do  _ something _ .”

Felicity chuckles. “Is it  _ that  _ bad?”

Diggle laughs. “I don’t mind it, but the rest of the team is definitely getting sick of it. Once or twice I’ve heard Rene say you two should go ahead and fu-"

“John!  _ Your son _ .”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “But seriously, if you think the two of you are ready to take that step, do it."

“I’m just not sure if this dinner is the right time.”

“You’ll know in the moment,” both Diggle and Lyla say, perfectly in unison, and then they chuckle.

“Okay. I’ll trust you guys. I mean, the two of you must be doing something right.” Felicity looks up and sees her half naked reflection and groans. “Hey Lyla, what should I wear? Casual? Dress? What…?”

“Casual. Stay comfortable.”

She nods, thanks the two of them for their advice and then hangs up. She moves to the side of her closet that features her jeans and sifts through them, finally at ease. The Diggles always know just what to say.

 

***

 

Oliver fidgets with the napkins as he sets the table. It has been a while since he’s had Felicity over for more than mission related conversation. Despite feeling perfectly at home around her, he’s nervous as all hell and unable to hide it; the facade he normally dons won’t fall into place. So he fidgets and overcorrects.

“Mr. Oliver, you need to relax.”

He looks up to find Raisa studying him in an almost maternal fashion. “I know,” he groans. “I just haven’t felt this nervous in a long time.”

She nods. “I understand. But everything will be fine. Dinner will be fine. And whatever happens after… well, all of that will be fine too.”

Oliver blushes. “What are you implying, Raisa?”

She throws up her hands and tilts her head. “Oh, you know…” Then she returns to the kitchen.

_ Does everyone seem to think we  _ need  _ to have sex right now? _ The question seems so absurd and yet so prominent recently. Their teasing and flirting has escalated and everyone on the team has commented on it, one way or another. He thinks about their interactions, about her body language and his responses. He ponders the night before and the sensation of her fingers touching his skin, drawing those intoxicating circles along his chest. There was no doubt - is no doubt - what was on her mind, if even for just a moment. His heart races and he fights to control the direction of his thoughts.  _ This is just an innocent dinner… _

The doorbell rings and his heart thunders in his chest almost instantly. He marvels at the way Felicity turns him into a nervous teenager, unable to keep calm. Sweaty palms. Rushing thoughts. Pounding pulse. He used to be so smooth and suave, but now he’s reduced to a bumbling mess at the thought of her. He attempts to pull his mask on, and it fits into place, though he knows she’ll see right through him.

He goes to the door and opens it. On the other side Felicity is wrapped in a dark coat. A smile flits to her lips and her eyes sparkle as they meet his. “Hey,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” he replies. He knows all too well that his face has turned into his own lovesick example of the heart eyes emoji, but he doesn’t quite care. She’s at his door and she’s smiling. “Come in.”

After he closes the door, he helps her out of her coat. It slides off and he sees she’s forgone her usual dress for a pair of tight black jeans and a fitted blouse, curves on full display. His mouth goes dry. He fights to ignore the desire that bubbles up to the surface, deciding to make a show of hanging up her coat instead. He hears her toeing off her shoes and leaving them by the door; she’s always done this. She looks so comfortable and at home that it makes his heart ache a bit. Images of their stint in Ivy Town flit through his mind and it all rushes back.

“Ah, Miss Felicity,” Raisa says as she rounds the corner. “You arrived just in time. Dinner is ready.”

_ Saved by the dinner bell. _

They make their way into the dining room and Felicity takes the seat across from Oliver. William comes into the room and halts at the doorway. “Oh,” he mumbles. “Hey Felicity.”

“Hey, William!” Felicity responds enthusiastically. “How have you been?”

Everyone has seated themselves and dishes are passed around the table. “Eh,” William says after a bit of silence. “It just doesn’t feel like Halloween-time…”

Oliver glances from William to Felicity. Her brow is furrowed and the fork in her hand is hovering over her plate, empty. She looks at him, eyes searching for an answer. He just nods in a positive way and Felicity clears her throat. “What do you mean?”

William pushes some food around on his plate and frowns. “My school doesn’t like the  _ normal  _ Halloween stuff and their Halloween festival is gonna be so boring.”

Felicity nods a few times, considering his words. She takes a few bites, chews, then sets her fork down. She turns toward William and gives him her full attention. “What sort of things do you think are normal Halloween things?”

William shrugs. “I don’t know. Haunted houses. Spooky skeletons and giant spiders. Zombies. Definitely zombies.”

Oliver takes a drink of his wine and then says, “The school denied his suggestion of having haunted houses at the festival.”

Felicity’s eyes widen. “No haunted house!?”

William perks up at Felicity’s shock. “Yeah. No haunted house! Me and Zoe even suggested the students help build and run it, but they still said no.”

Oliver knows that Felicity is just trying to make William feel better and heard, and her enthusiasm warms his heart.  _ I really need to tell her about Thea’s upcoming festival.  _ The meal continues with William ranting about the school and their distaste for all things scary while Raisa chuckles sporadically and Oliver joins in with fatherly logic.

“Y’know,” Felicity continues after a sip of wine. All of their plates are empty and they’ve just been chatting about horror movies and candy; anything involving Halloween, they have covered in depth. “In Vegas, there’s this indoor amusement park that turns into a gigantic scare-fest during Halloween-time. Imagine five different haunted houses all stuffed into an amusement park with actors walking around to scare you on the way to each! Lights are dark and spooky, there’s fog machines everywhere...”

William grins. “That sounds so cool! My mom used to take me to this haunted ranch outside of Central City. Haunted hayride and zombie paintball! It was awesome!”

Oliver takes his phone out and texts Thea discreetly under the table.

_ 7:49pm: We need zombie paintball… whatever that is. _

A few moments later Thea responds.

_ 7:50pm: Oh my dear brother, you have been missing out. _

_ 7:51pm: I’ll make sure that zombie paintball is at the festival. _

“Hey, buddy?” Oliver begins as the conversation lulls enough for him to insert himself. “How about you help Raisa with the dishes? I have some things to discuss with Felicity.”

Silence falls across the table and William’s eyes narrow. Then he nods. “Sure.”

They stack the dishes and then Raisa leads William into the kitchen, out of earshot. Once the faucet surges and the clink of dishes sounds, Oliver turns back to Felicity. “Firstly, thanks a lot for telling Will about that scare-fest thing.”

Felicity holds up her hands. “Sorry. But it did help him talk about his mother without sadness, so you should really thank me in a less sarcastic way.”

His head bows slightly. “That’s true. But now I’ll inevitably have to take him to Vegas to see this thing.”

“You’re welcome, truly.” Felicity winks.

“Secondly, Thea is planning a Halloween festival fundraiser for Hope House in protest to the school’s weird policies. Keep it a secret.”

Felicity beams. “Oh, that sounds fantastic. I’ll call her to see if she needs any help.”

“Thirdly, what did you find out about the throwing star?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, the teasing and the light-hearted vibe the evening has garnered disappears. Felicity shifts in her seat awkwardly. “Well, the good news is that it isn’t one of Chase’s throwing stars. Most likely someone trying to recreate it from reference images, but it is not exact in any way. It took some magnified comparison looks to find the differences, but they are there in the lines of the metal and engravings and the use of metals, though I still plan on examining it further.”

“What’s the bad news, exactly?”

Felicity’s eyes lock with his. He can tell it isn’t exactly  _ bad  _ news, just inconvenient news. Inconvenient is easier to handle; he can work well with inconvenient. Bad news, however, can be crippling. “I have no idea who made and sent the replica throwing star.”

 

***

 

Once Felicity leaves Oliver’s apartment, she heads straight to the bunker and the throwing star. The autumn night is crisp and cuts through her coat to chill her bones. The mystery and downright creepiness of the throwing star doesn’t help in the least. It is that time of year, and despite her absolute belief in science and not supernatural forces, she’s seen magic and mysticism reign more often than she’d like. If, somehow, the throwing star is Chase’s despite her confidence that it is not, she has to find out for sure. 

The elevator sends her down into the depths of the bunker and she enters, switches on the lights and then gets to work.

She takes the star out and puts it under the jeweler’s magnifier, upping the magnification until the folds and creases within the steel reveal themselves. Weaponry has never been interesting to her, but the precision and care the maker took in forming the star is evident, and it is beautiful.  _ I’ve been at this vigilante business for too long,  _ Felicity thinks bitterly.  _ Weapons are beautiful to me now… _

As she rotates the star, a shift in the steel catches her eyes, bright and out of place. She moves the metal back and forth and catches the abnormality.

A symbol. Etched into the metal.

An owl, wings spread and eyes keen on its prey.

She moves to her computer and her fingers dance atop her keyboard as she scours the dark web for some sort of reference to the image. After what seems like hours and a few cups of coffee later, a result comes up ominously.

_ The Court of Owls. _

Felicity eyes the words with curiosity, then grabs her phone. She dials Oliver’s number without hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” he asks without greeting, voice tense and slightly groggy.

“The Court of Owls. That’s where the throwing star came from.”

“Are you at the bunker?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

The line disconnects and she’s left waiting with information she doesn’t quite know what to do with. So she simply reads what she finds.

It is all vague. A secret society controlling the ins and outs of Gotham City politics and crime syndicates for a particular end, of which no one knows for sure. She’s reading through a list of assassinations believed to have been orchestrated by the group when Oliver arrives.

“What did you find on this Court of Owls?”

She shrugs. “Nothing aside from their obsession with Gotham City. So why would they be targeting you?”

He pulls a seat beside hers and begins reading through the information she’s found, eyes tired and strained. She can see the worry and wear that has overtaken his face, the deep set furrow of his brow and the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. So much has happened since they went away for their romantic trip around the globe, and most of it hasn’t been for the better.

Felicity’s eyes drift down to the slight movement of his lips as he mouths what he’s reading, and she has to fight the urge to press her own lips against his. Finally he stops and turns to face her. “This makes no sense,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “I don’t need more to worry about. With Dragon out there somewhere and William still not totally at home… this is just…”

“Inconvenient?”

He nods. “Inconvenient,” he agrees.

She reaches for his hand and grasps it encouragingly. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

“How are you always so confident?”

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Because deep down, you know we’ll figure this out too. We have part of the information already. We just have to determine how to handle it. And we will. We always do.”

She can see him fighting the words… she’s fighting them too. The words they haven’t spoken in what seems an eternity. The words that always seemed so difficult for her until she spoke and applied them to Oliver Queen. Those three little words.

Their hands fall apart and Oliver stands. “Thank you, Felicity,” he says. She eyes his left hand and the way his thumb and forefinger rub together nervously. She knows without a doubt that he’s fighting  _ everything  _ that she is, filing it away for another more appropriate time. It kills her.

“Don’t mention it. Or, do mention it. I like reminders of how awesome I am.”

He grins, then heads toward the suits. “Since I’m here, I might as well go on a quick patrol.”

She nods. “Stay safe.”  _ Please. _

 

***

 

“Where are we going?” William asks impatiently.

“Relax. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see for yourself.”

“I  _ hate _ surprises.”

Oliver sighs.  _ Just like me… _

The car pulls up to the park and slows to a stop. Oliver gets out and smiles at the commotion, all cheer and fun and spookiness. “Wow!” William says from the other side of the car. “What is this?”

“Aunt Thea and I thought it’d be fun to host a fundraiser for Hope House, and since you were so upset about the school not allowing you to have the haunted houses you wanted, I figured we’d show them how it is done.”

Oliver watches his son gaze at the chaotic lights and general mayhem. He’s taking it in like a cat watches a bird on the other side of a window.

“What would you like to do first? The haunted houses or the zombie paintball?”

William jumps up and down like a toddler for a moment, then stops, attempting to regain his composure. “There’s zombie paintball!?”

“Of course there is.”

William begins tugging Oliver toward the event, youthful eagerness almost overwhelming. “Paintball!”

They arrive at the check-in for paintball and Oliver signs all of the necessary forms for his son, an odd sensation filling him. He’s struggled for months to bring joy to his son’s dismantled life and now he sees a small reward. William is giddy and smiling… everything a child should be at Halloween-time. The attendants begin suiting William up with padding and a gun stocked full of crimson paintballs. “Aren’t you coming too, dad?”

Oliver shakes his head. “Nah.” Then he leans close to William’s ear and whispers, “It wouldn’t be exactly fair, now would it?”

William points at Oliver with a smile. “That’s true.”

“Have fun, buddy. I’ll be out here waiting. Maybe I’ll get us some funnel cakes.”

“Yes! Funnel cakes! Please!”

So Oliver watches as William is led out into a paintball course, then heads to a food stalls, the smell of frying dough intoxicating. The line is long and the chatter of those in line becomes monotonous after a while, but he waits. Anything for his son.

When he is almost at the front of the line, a hand jabs into his side playfully. “Hey,” Felicity says over the noise of the event.

“Hey,” Oliver answers, feeling his heart flutter a bit. “I didn’t think you’d show, what with our current mystery to solve.”

She shrugs. “We both needed the break, and any chance to help a local charity is worth the time.”

Something remains unsaid between them, charged and hanging there, important. He knows she’s here for him. She’s here for William. And the knowledge, even if left unspoken, means the world.

She wraps her arm around his and his heart skips a whole beat. “What are we getting?” she asks, patting his arm gently.

“Funnel cakes.”

She lets out a laugh. “Do you remember those funnel cakes we got at that county fair we came across in God knows where?”

He nods. “I do.” He remembers the way the powdered sugar scattered all over them and settled at the corner of her lips. He remembers how he took the time to kiss each fleck away, and then some. He remembers where those kisses led them. He remembers it all. And when he glances down at Felicity he can tell she’s remembering it all as well.

They get the funnel cakes and wait at a picnic table just outside of the paintball field. As the minutes pass, they are joined by members of their team. First the Diggles with John Junior, then Rene and Curtis. Dinah is last to arrive, police badge attached to her belt. “You have to work this event?”

“I volunteered,” she explains. “I’d rather not be a civilian if some crazy masked thugs decide to go for a banana split in the hopes it turns them gassy.”

The team laughs as she walks away, back to her duty.

They all chat and enjoy the sights and sounds. The golden glow of the popcorn lights give the world a magical feeling, as if anything can happen. As they sit there, Zoe rushes over and hugs Rene and they quickly go toward one of the carnival games; Oliver hopes he can win Zoe something special.

When William leaves the paintball field, he scarfs down his funnel cake and then points toward the carnival games. “Can I go hang out with Zoe?”

Oliver grins. “Of course. If you need me, I’ll be in the haunted house.”

“Gotcha!”

William runs off toward Rene and Zoe, and then Oliver grasps Felicity’s hand. He tugs her away from the picnic table and toward the ominously lit haunted asylum. Her eyes dart around, fearful. “What? Too scared?”

Felicity glares at him, stands up straighter and growls out, “Who said I was scared. Let’s go.”

They enter the temporary building and are assaulted with strobing lights, screaming actors and overwhelming amounts of fog. The deeper they go, the tighter Felicity’s hand clutches at Oliver’s. It reminds him of their numerous missions and the times he’s put himself between her and danger. So many times.

He knows he’ll continue to do so, whether they are a thing or not. She’s everything to his shattered and slowly repairing world… she’s the missing piece. He knows that one hundred percent. And he can no longer allow their circumstances and worries and changing lives to keep him from her.

As they leave the building chased by a bloody clown, he tugs her into the darkness beneath a tree, the branches cloaking the trunk and shielding them from the festival lights. He pins her there and without hesitation, he finds her lips meeting him halfway. Eager. Ready. Demanding.

He’s imagined kissing her nearly every moment of every day since that kiss on Lian Yu. He’s replayed every kiss they’ve ever had in an attempt to remember and memorize how they felt. But none of those recollections compare to the real thing. To her lips melding with his and their tongues dancing a frantic dance. Her hands wrap around his neck and pull him as close as she can get him, their bodies so close but so far.

When their lips part, they are gasping for air and clutching at one another’s bodies for stability. After a moment, Felicity giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just didn’t think this would ever happen again.”

Oliver isn’t quite sure what to say in response. He felt the same way for so long and he doesn’t want to waste another moment apart. So he brings his lips down onto hers, losing himself in Felicity Smoak’s embrace.

 

***

 

A man walks amongst the crowd and takes in the happiness around him. Loud. Obnoxious. Insulting to the original intention of the impending holiday. But he continues to walk, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He has forgone his dark mask in favor of his unknown face. It has been years since he’s walked freely in Star City, so long that the last time it was named Starling. His gloved fingers trace the dangerous edge of another throwing star, memorizing the paperthin steel. He’s made plenty of the stars but hasn’t been able to part with them.

As he makes his way through the crowd he glimpses members of Team Arrow, all of them unaware of the danger they have rubbed shoulders with. He stops in front of a haunted asylum attraction and frowns, recalling his teenage years in Gotham and the cell he once called his home. Screams. Pounding on walls. Psychotic laughter. It is a miracle he escaped with his faculties.

He steps away and then hears a giggle beneath the cacophony of festival cheer. He glances into the darkness and sees Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak. His heart hardens as he watches them rekindling the fire they once shared. He cannot hear their words, but he doesn’t have to. He knows the numerous combinations of words they might be speaking. He’s spoken them once or twice in his life as well.

His lips curl up in a disgusted grimace. “Cherish this while you can, Oliver Queen. It will not last.”


	5. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Family Ties" by MachaSWicket
> 
> Beta'd by Ilse - many thanks to Ilse for the detailed kindness. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSTING SCHEDULE NOTE: No episodes next week, and then we're back posting more episodes per week.

 

Felicity and Oliver stumble through the door into the dark, quiet loft. She barely notices, because Oliver’s mouth is on hers and his big, strong hands are clutching at her back.

Oliver lifts her closer and she tugs his shirtsleeve, directing him wordlessly toward the couch. “Yes, good,” she mutters against his mouth as he follows directions flawlessly. They’ve always been so good at this aspect of their relationship. “So, so good,” she mumbles breathlessly between kisses.

Oliver chuckles, talking a half-step back, trailing his fingers down her arms as he drops to the couch with his effortless grace. When he looks up at her, he’s flushed and a little flustered and, wow, has Felicity missed this -- the freedom to touch the man she loves, the freedom to look at him without attempting to hide her thoughts or her desires, the freedom to undress him and reacquaint herself with every delicious inch of his body. 

She’s about to yank her dress up to straddle him, when his brow furrows just a bit. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her still. “Should we be doing this?”

Felicity freezes.

She’d spent a good, long time choosing her dress for their super-official, extra-fancy, second-and-definitely-last-ever first date before settling on something sexy, bright purple, and exceedingly easy to remove, should the date go the way she expected. When Oliver had shown up on her doorstep in the charcoal suit she loves on him, with that one particularly crisp white dress shirt with the french cuffs, she’d known his thoughts were aligned with hers. They’d flirted their way through dinner, exchanging lingering touches and heated, knowing looks -- now it is well past time for dessert.

“What?” she manages after a moment. Before he can answer, she has an important follow up on the subject of sex and whether they should be having it. “Of course we should be doing this. We should be doing this a lot to make up for lost time. Didn’t you miss this?” 

“God, yes,” Oliver answers with feeling, and her trepidation eases. “I just meant--” Oliver stops short as Felicity lifts her dress up enough to straddle him, settling on his lap with a triumphant look. “Uh,” he closes his eyes for a moment, his grip on her waist tightening, urging her closer. She leans in, nuzzling the scruff along his jawline and inhaling that perfect, vaguely piney aftershave of his. Oliver swallows hard. “I just-- I can’t stay. I have to get home to William in about an hour, and I don’t want to leave you here if we--”

She cuts off his concern with one of those kisses that starts off soft and turns just the right kind of dirty. “You’re sweet, Oliver,” she tells him, pressing little kisses to his jawline, savoring the familiar scratch of his stubble against her lips. “But it’s been over a year.” She straightens enough to catch his gaze, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Oliver frowns. “I could ask Raisa to stay with him Friday night,” he suggests, even as his hand smooths down the length of her spine.

“My mother gets here tomorrow,” Felicity counters. She loosens his tie a bit, then runs her fingers down the silk, savoring the way his breath hitches. “I don’t wanna say it’s now or never, but it’s definitely now or next week.”

Oliver’s pupils go wide and dark and he leans his big solid body against hers. “Now,” he grits out, a half-second before devouring her mouth with a breath-stealing, toe-curling kiss.

Felicity tugs at the buttons on his shirt, and he runs his warm palms up her bare thighs, beneath the sleek, purple material of her dress. She whimpers a little when he maneuvers their bodies on the couch, lying crosswise and pulling her down on top of him just the way he likes. Just the way she likes, too, and she thanks him with a playful bite of his lower lip that causes him to gasp.

Felicity has his belt off and his fly open, her hands seeking interesting places, when his phone interrupts them with an annoying chirp.

“Nooooo,” she whines, using his beautiful, partially bare chest to push herself upright. Oliver groans at the movement, shifting beneath her.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He softens his tone. “Sorry, that’ll be Quentin. He wouldn’t be calling right now if it wasn’t important.”

Felicity had definitely sent clear instructions to the entire team prior to their date about interruption-worthy events, so Oliver must be right. “Fine,” she grumbles, fishing her hand into his pocket, despite the awkward angle, just so she can drag her fingertips along that sensitive spot above his hipbone before she pulls his phone free.

“Minx,” he says with a breathy little laugh. Deftly, he moves the phone to his ear, not bothering to sit up. “Quentin, what’s wrong?” he asks. Felicity clings to the idea that it’s a brief, mistaken interruption right up until Oliver sighs and reaches his free hand up to scrub his face. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Somehow, Oliver manages to maneuver them both as he sits up so that she ends up crosswise on his lap, and he can wrap his arms around her in a comforting hug. “I’m sorry,” he says, pressing three quick kisses to her shoulder. “There’s been a collapse at the construction site on Cambridge Street. It’s late, so hopefully everyone’s fine, but it’s a municipal project.”

“Which means you need to head to City Hall.” Felicity is already moving, pressing the lower half of her dress back down to a more reasonable position and tugging the top back into place.

“Well, no,” Oliver says, leaning in and pressing soft kisses to her neck until she shivers. He laughs, his breath tickling her skin. “I mean, I should go talk to Quenin and the team. But I don’t have much time,” Oliver adds, getting to his feet and pulling her up after him. He checks the time on his phone. “Raisa needs to leave by eleven, so it’ll have to be a quick trip.”

“I can go,” Felicity offers. It only makes sense -- Oliver will just be asking her to look into the construction collapse in an hour anyway. Why should he swing by City Hall when he could be home with his son?

Oliver pauses, looking up from refastening the buttons on his shirt. “You wouldn’t mind?” he asks, clearly torn between the places he should be -- and, honestly, this kind of thing is exactly why she’s been insisting they take it slow. She was raised by a single parent, and she knows that William has to be Oliver’s priority, particularly considering that they’re still getting to know each other.

Oliver shoulders so many responsibilities that he runs himself ragged, and Felicity never wanted to be a source of stress for him. She’s always wanted to help him, to make his life easier, because that’s her way of loving people -- and she loves Oliver beyond reason.

“Of course I don’t mind.” Felicity assures him, pausing to frown down at her dress, which is hopelessly wrinkled and, honestly, looking at it now, how did that bodice get so twisted? She wriggles around, tugging on the stubborn fabric. “I can go talk to Quentin, get started hacking into nearby security cameras, that sort of thing. You should go home, Oliver. William needs you, and this is one of those times that you can delegate.” She holds his arm for balance and steps back into her very cute but slightly pinch-y heels. 

“You sure you got it?” he asks with genuine concern.

“Yup.” Felicity glances at him, and the indecisive look on his face halts her in her tracks. “Hey, we’re partners, remember?” She reaches up and cups his cheek, then scratches his stubble the way he likes. “Let me be a good teammate.” 

It’s not meant to be a test, but Felicity is definitely relieved when he smiles and says, “Okay.” Because maybe he really will lean on her this time.

“Okay,” she echoes with a grin.

 

& & &

 

When Felicity leans partway into Quentin’s dim City Hall office and gives him a little wave, he greets her with a puzzled head tilt and a waggle of the phone receiver he’s holding to his ear. Felicity waits semi-patiently for him to wrap up his call, trying not to be her normal curious self, even though he’s clearly talking to that jerk Councilor Wainwright who’s intent on blocking Oliver’s re-zoning proposal.

Finally, Quentin drops the handset into its cradle and regards her with tired eyes as he waves her in. “Hi.” Despite the late hour, he is still in a buttoned up shirt and loosened tie, though his suit jacket has been carelessly tossed across the corner of his desk. 

“Surprise...” Felicity says, with mild enthusiasm. She moves into the office and attempting to smooth her stubbornly wrinkled dress before dropping into the visitor’s seat. “Oliver needs to be doing dad-like things right now, so I’m here. By the way, City Hall is super creepy at night. I feel like the city should invest in motion sensor lights for when people have to work late, because walking through a big, dark, empty, echo-y hallway is not the best way to arrive at a meeting feeling cool, calm, and collected.” She realizes she’s spiraling a little and presses her lips together, counting down from five. “Sorry,” she says with a vague wiggle of her hand. “Weird night.”

“Carlos didn’t walk you up?” Quentin grumbles, but waves away her attempt to reply. “I’m sorry you came all the way down here for this. It’s more of a political issue than a--” He grimaces-- “team thing.”

Felicity purses her lips. “Oh.” Quentin’s concern is more about political fallout than potential bad actors being responsible, but obviously she’ll focus on both pieces of this particular puzzle because in Star City, if it’s not violence, it’s usually white collar crime -- corruption, bribery, wage theft, and the like. “So, there was a collapse?” she prompts.

“Yeah, at the construction site for the new high school on the east side of the Glades, you know the one?” Felicity nods, because she’d absolutely voted yes on that referendum question -- how could she not, considering damage to the old high school building was caused by the Undertaking. Quentin explains, “The upper portion of the elevator shaft gave way, and sent chunks of cement crashing down through the scaffolding and some infrastructure work. Thankfully, the site appears to have been empty at the time. It’s early yet, but so far, no signs of foul play. Could just be an accident.”

Felicity concentrates very hard on not loudly reiterating her whole no non-emergency calls during our date rule and demanding an explanation for his earlier phone call if this is all so non-urgent. Because she could be having very sweaty sex right now, instead of sitting here all frustrated in a wrinkled dress. “Oh, yeah?” She tries for nonchalant and misses badly.

“It’s a city project, Felicity,” Quentin says, holding a hand up like he expects she might hurl herself across the desk to attack him. Maybe she’s not hiding her grumpiness quite as well as she intended to. “They’re building a new high school with your tax dollars and mine,” he points out, “based on a very close referendum vote. There’s vocal opposition to this project--”

“From vocal jerks,” she mutters.

“--so we need to be prepared for the political fallout.”

Felicity stands up, clutching her purse and her temper tightly. “Okay. Well. I will... look into that,” she tells him, and heads for the door.  
  
“Felicity,” Quentin says, sounding a little reluctant to test her. Felicity turns back with a forced smile. “The contractor, he’s got a lot of projects in the city, a few of them backed by city funds or tax credits. This is probably just an accident, but if it’s not,” he shrugs one shoulder, “I’d like to know sooner than later.”

“I’ll let you and Oliver know what I find,” Felicity says, pulling her phone out to text Oliver an update as she makes her way back through the eerie dimness.

 

& & &

 

One of the joys of Oliver’s evolving -- and still occasionally difficult -- relationship with William is making his son breakfast every morning. As much as he loves his parents -- even knowing their considerable faults -- when Oliver thinks about the kind of father he wants to be to his son, he is reminded of the steady dependability of Raisa above all else. This is something he wants to give his own son, and he is determined to be there for William. Every day. Consistently.

Thea drives William to school most days, but Oliver tries to take his son at least one day a week. Sure, William usually stayed quiet on the ride to school and had the car door open before Oliver could bring the car to a full stop, but at least Oliver got a wave and a “Bye, Dad,” most days.

So, he’s a little surprised when William glances over during the drive and asks, “Did you tell Felicity I said hi last night?”

Oliver can’t help the way he smiles at hearing her name, and he doesn’t miss the fact that William likes Felicity. “I did, buddy,” he tells his son. “She says hi back, and suggested a game night for Sunday.”

William frowns. “She can come over before that.”

There’s an indescribably warm feeling in Oliver’s chest hearing his son say these words, and his voice sounds a little bit scratchy when he answers, “I bet she’d love to, but her mom is flying in today for a visit, so she’ll be pretty busy the next couple days.”

William considers this as Oliver turns into the drop off lane and slows to a stop. “Okay,” he says. “Bye, Dad.”

“Have a good day, William,” he answers, watching with pride and a large measure of protectiveness as his son lopes up the steps and disappears into Star City Prep.

The warm contentedness Oliver is feeling buoys him all the way into his office at City Hall. In fact, despite his lingering sexual frustration due to last night’s abrupt ending, he’s having a pretty great morning until Rene knocks on the door and says, “Wainwright’s talking nonsense on TV about you supporting the CBA request for the rezoning approvals.”

Oliver blinks. “Run that by me one more time?” he requests, because it’s been several weeks but he and Rene are still figuring out how to work together here. Or, more accurately, Rene is still adjusting to wearing suits and working at City Hall, where politeness and compromise are required. Rene’s familiarity with issues particular to the Glades is most of the reason Quentin suggesting bringing him on board, and Oliver can’t deny that Rene is able to eviscerate poorly thought out policy proposals and provide colorful counterarguments. His contributions are a net positive, but he’s ruffled more than a few feathers already with his inability to sugar coat his thoughts.

Rene strides farther into the office and drops into a chair. “The CBA request?” he prompts, and it finally rings a bell for Oliver. Faintly. He frowns when he can’t tease all of the details out of his memory. “Remind me what the acronym stands for again?”

Rene pins him with an unimpressed look. “Community Benefits Agreement,” he answers slowly. “You met with Abriana from The Welcome Project last week?”

“Right,” Oliver nods as the details come back to him. The Welcome Project is an organization based in the Glades that provides support for immigrants, including housing help, English classes, and legal resources. And the organization happens to be headquartered in the housing project slated for demolition as part of a redevelopment proposal. “They want the developers to sign a CBA with them and some other groups--”

“Coalition for the Homeless, the Star City Environmental Council, and the Dis/Ability Project,” Rene supplies. His grandmother had lost a foot to diabetes, and had been active with the Dis/Ability Project as well as The Welcome Project before she died.

Oliver had taken Rene’s willingness to vouch for these organizations seriously, and understands the logic behind the CBA request. “The proposed CBA would provide contractual rights and, more importantly, remedies to those groups if the developers fail to meet the sustainability, livability, and affordability requirements of the redevelopment,” Oliver finishes.

It’s a relatively new idea in municipal planning -- traditionally, developers sign contracts with the city, and the city is responsible for negotiating both the financial pieces and the more practical items, like amount of green space, requiring solar or other green energy sources, etc.

Abriana Oliveira, the president of The Welcome Project, had argued persuasively that, since her organization and many of its members are likely to be directly impacted by the redevelopment, they have a real stake in the outcome.

Despite his wealthy upbringing, Oliver is not naive about redevelopment -- gentrification. He also knows there are winners and losers in every decision he makes, every policy change, even in every initiative intended to help people. But the people who get the short end of redevelopment decisions are the ones who lose their leases when their buildings get bulldozed, and then get priced out of their neighborhoods when property value rises.

To make things more difficult, property value drives municipal tax revenue, which funds the city and all of its programs, and Oliver can’t lose sight of that part of his job, either. People like Councilor Wainwright won’t let him, actually. Dollar value and potential revenue are the only things they seem to pay attention to.

“What’s Councilor Wainwright saying today?” Oliver asks, putting a slight emphasis on the title that Rene refuses to use. Rene has very fixed opinion’s on Fred Wainwright’s general uselessness, given his long, wholly undistinguished tenure on the City Council. In private, Oliver mostly agrees with Rene about Councilor Wainwright, but he’s trying to reinforce the need to use proper titles for official mayoral business.

“Oh, today you’re a socialist,” Rene comments with an irritatingly cheerful grin. “I mean, he talked for ten minutes and used a lot of big words, but that’s what he meant.”

“Supporting a contract between private parties is socialism now?” Oliver taps his fingertips on the desktop.

“This contract would benefit poor people,” Rene answers, “which always makes it socialism to a certain kind of politician.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees, feeling a little deflated now. It’s hard to get through a day at City Hall without being reminded that politics is an infuriating game of incremental change and gut-wrenching compromise.

He doesn’t regret becoming mayor, because he is working to right wrongs visited by the powerful on the rest of the city’s citizens, however slow the progress may seem. It’s just draining sometimes. Like right now, because: “How does Councilor Wainwright even know about my meeting with The Welcome Project?” There’s a tension headache threatening behind his eye, and Oliver makes a mental note to hydrate as soon as he can get Rene out of his office.

“Well,” Rene answers slowly, and Oliver knows what he’s going to say just based on the bashful look on his face, “I know you didn’t give Abriana a commitment on the CBA, but...” He trails off with a shrug.

“The Welcome Project released a statement,” Oliver finishes, head tilting slightly as he considers the political ramifications. “They’re trying to lock me in, but they’ve just given Wainwright and the other councilors who oppose the idea of a CBA a reason to go on TV and complain about it.”

Rene nods, pushing himself up and out of the chair. “That’s about the size of it, Hoss,” he says.

“No.” Oliver points at Rene. “We talked about that.”

“About what?” Rene tries to charm him, but Oliver just glares at him.

“No nicknames,” Oliver tells him. Again. “And this is not a spaghetti western.” He gestures toward the door. “I’ll probably need to meet with Councilor Wainwright on this, but I want to think about it first.”

“Sure thing,” Rene answers, pulling the door closed. Oliver can still hear the belated “Hoss” through the heavy wood.

 

& & &

 

Felicity is about fourteen Twizzlers, three double lattes, and a truly appalling number of doritos into parallel projects -- her coding project to add impenetrable security layers to biochips (particularly her own), and her not quite legal investigation into Stanley Patterson and his construction company, StanCo -- when Curtis appears in her sightline wearing a brightly patterned blue shirt.

Felicity blinks and the large living space of the loft comes back into focus. She’s not entirely sure what time it is, or how long ago Curtis arrived, but he’s looking at her expectantly.

“What?” Frak, her voice sounds scratchy. When she really connects with the code she’s writing, everything else fades away. Losing herself in the predictable 1s and 0s is the best way she knows to turn her brain off when it starts to spin up into anxiety. She clears her throat and tries again. “What?”

He frowns at her for a moment, then shrugs it off. “Well,” he announces, “we have kind of a good news, bad news situation going on.” 

“Oh?” Felicity takes this as her cue to get up and stretch a little bit, since she’s been in kind of a coding headspace for -- wow, is it really mid-afternoon? -- many hours. “Oh!” Wide-eyed, she grabs for her phone. “Hang on,” she orders as she checks her mother’s flight details. Sagging with relief that she has another half hour before she needs to head to the airport, she turns back to Curtis with a bright smile. “Sorry. You were mentioning some good news?” 

“Sure, we can do that first,” Curtis answers agreeably. “Good news, I found my Palmer Tech employment paperwork!” 

“Yay!” Felicity cheers. Because their start-up idea hinges on their ability to upgrade the biochip that Curtis invented and further improve it with a streamlined version of the kind of advanced, virtually uncrackable security Felicity has been writing and improving over the years to protect the Arrow servers and platforms. But they need to make sure they can do that free and clear of any Palmer Tech entanglements.

“Yeah,” Curtis agrees with that telltale nervous laugh of his. “Of course, the bad news is everything else. Oh, except for Niraj.”

Felicity pauses, befuddled by that last bit. “What?”

“Niraj,” Curtis repeats, as if that will clarify anything. “He and I met in Beijing -- he’s a water polo player.”

Felicity blinks rapidly. “That... doesn’t sound like bad news?” It’s less a question than a statement of her confusion.

“Right, right, sorry.” Curtis nods once. “I tried reading the Palmer Tech paperwork that I signed, but after the third ‘whereas’ clause, I called my divorce attorney for help. But Sheila pointed out that divorce attorneys and employment law attorneys are not the same, which is when I thought of Niraj--”

“An Olympic water polo player,” Felicity interjects, trying her best to follow the story.

“Right!” Curtis grins. “He’s also a law student! Or was when I met him in Beijing. Now he’s an actual lawyer. In employment law.” He sighs a bit wistfully. “An athlete and a scholar.”

Felicity claps her hands together. “Great! So, can Niraj take a look at--”

“He can and he did and it’s not great,” Curtis interrupts with a nervous laugh, deflating Felicity’s momentary excitement. “It’s not the non-compete that’s the problem.”

“Ugh,” Felicity whimpers, flopping down onto the comically large blue beanbag, which was Curtis’s contribution to their workspace. He’d protested that she always gravitated towards small scale furniture for her tiny body, and he needed some tall person furniture if they were going to make this work. “So then, what is the problem?”

“The problem is that I developed your implant in Palmer Tech labs using Palmer Tech supplies and incorporating Palmer Tech IP... so the implant itself is probably covered under this.” Curtis pulls a simple-looking, two-page document out of his bag with a flourish and drops it onto the vast expanse of beanbag near Felicity’s right arm.

She flails a little, the beanbag shifting with her efforts, until she gets hold of the papers and holds them aloft. “Employee’s Assignment of Inventions,” she reads. “How can something that’s only like eight paragraphs long prevent us from perfecting something you created?”

Curtis sighs. “Because that--” He flicks the offending paper-- “says that the company owns anything its employees create during office hours, while in the offices, etc., and that the employee -- in this case, me -- signs over any rights to these types of inventions, just to remove any possible doubt.”

“So,” she says slowly, turning over the problem in her mind, “the company required you -- and me, and every other employee -- to sign away rights to anything we invent during the time of our employment?” She leans her head back, staring vacantly at the ceiling and letting Curtis’s agreement flutter to the floor.

“Not quite,” Curtis corrects from somewhere over her left shoulder, and Felicity struggles her way out of the beanbag and back to her feet, turning to face him. Curtis continues, “Things we invent completely on our own, outside of the office, that aren’t really what the company does or cares about, is ours.”

“So definitely not the implant,” Felicity surmises, feeling her bubbly dreams popping one by one.

She heads for the kitchen, intending to drown her frustration in wine, and then remembers her mother is currently winging her way to Star City. “Frak,” she mutters. “Okay,” she says, turning back to Curtis, “here’s what we’re going to do: call Niraj, ask him if he’s interested in doing some work for us on this issue. I’ll find my Palmer Tech paperwork, and we’ll sit down and we’ll figure this out.”

She sounds more certain than she feels, but at least Curtis seems a little heartened as he grins at her. “A plan of attack.”

“Yes, but first...”  Felicity sighs deeply and heads over to her workstation to clean up the crumbs and wrappers. She rinses her mug in the kitchen sink before moving to the entryway to find her abandoned heels.

Curtis watches her curiously. “Going somewhere?”

“My mom’s flight lands in about forty-five minutes,” Felicity answers.

“Oh.”

Felicity scoops up her bag. “Yeah. Lock up when you leave,” she says, and opens the door.

 

& & &

 

To her everlasting surprise, Felicity manages to keep the information that she and Oliver are back together to herself for sixteen whole hours after her mother arrives. 

In fact, if she hadn’t been betrayed by her own pre-caffeinated grogginess, she might have made Oliver break the news and deal with Donna’s exuberant reaction. But she lets slip a reference to date night with Oliver and Donna flies immediately into paroxysms of happiness. There’s squealing and clapping and some bouncing that challenges the structural integrity of her mother’s bright coral dress. Donna’s joy is so loud that Felicity puts down her coffee mug to cover her ears.

“Mom. Mom. Mom!”

“Felicity!” Donna chirps, wrapping her arms around Felicity and squeezing her tight. “I am so happy for you. Oliver loves you so much.”

Eyes closed, Felicity rests her head against her mother’s shoulder.

“Okay!” Donna says, pulling back and holding Felicity by the upper arms. Her excitement manifesting as a face-splitting grin. “Tell me everything.”

Flushing slightly, Felicity eases out of her mother’s grip and rescues her coffee mug, playing for time. It’s not like she can tell her mother she’d resisted all of these stubborn feelings for Oliver until they were trapped on Lian Yu with some assassins, a formerly Mirakuru-enhanced psychopath, most of their friends, and Oliver’s son, when her fear of dying had caused her to throw caution to the wind and kiss him.

“Oh,” Donna says with a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s that kind of story. Felicity, honey, I’ve always been sex positive, and I want you to know you can tell me anyth--”

“No! It wasn’t--” Felicity wrinkles her nose, grasping for an explanation. “It was a long time coming,” she says finally, which is as true as the more detailed, mortal danger and stupid landmine-filled island version. “We never stopped loving each other, but I had to get to a place where I could forgive him. And obviously we took it very slow because of William.” 

Her mother’s expression shifts, her smile wilting. “Okay, but hon? You broke up because of William, and I--”

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Felicity shakes her head vehemently and adds one more “no,” for good measure. “We broke up because Oliver withheld this huge, major, life-changing thing from me, and then he actively lied about where he was going for months.”

Donna watches her closely. “That sounds a little bit like semantics, Felicity, and--”

“It’s not,” Felicity interrupts, because this is important. She needs her mother, at least, to know she’s not the kind of person who would blame a child for his father’s bad choices. “I promise, I am very clear on who asked me to marry him while not telling me he was going to Central City every Tuesday to see his secret child, and that was definitely Oliver.”

“Okay, hon,” Donna says, holding her hands up in surrender, but Felicity recognizes that tone -- her mother doesn’t want to argue, but doesn’t fully agree, either.

“William is amazing,” Felicity says, the words coming faster now that the caffeine has started to hit her bloodstream. “He’s smart and sweet and a little bit damaged from losing his mother and moving cities a couple times in two years.” Plus the kidnappings, though Felicity keeps that part to herself. “Oliver choosing to lie to me,” she continues, her tone a bit brittle, because, yeah, she has forgiven Oliver, but the memory still stings, “has nothing to do with William.”

Donna reaches over and takes Felicity’s hand. “Baby girl, I know you’re too smart for your brain to believe any of Oliver’s choices were William’s fault. But you feel things so deeply, Felicity.” Donna presses her free hand to her chest. “I’m just saying that it’s easy to let all those hurt feelings get mixed up together. And it would be understandable if you had some reservations about becoming a stepmother to--”

“I don’t,” Felicity insists. A bit too loudly. She tries to modulate her volume. “Have reservations, I mean. Not that I’m William’s stepmother. No,” she laughs a little crazily, “Of course I’m not William’s stepmother. I’m not anyone’s stepmother. Wow, I can’t stop saying stepmother. Which is a thing that I am not!”

Her mother is right about Felicity’s conflicted feelings, even if she’s wrong about the source -- Felicity wants to be part of the life Oliver is building with William, she just doesn’t know exactly how to do that without destabilizing the current Clayton-Queen household.

And she definitely doesn’t know how to be anyone’s stepmother.

Donna shakes her head, a little frown on her lips. “Felicity--”

“Really,” she interrupts her mother, “William’s a great kid. In fact, you should meet him!” Even as the words are leaving her mouth, she regrets them. Because if she thought she might be too much for William to take since he’s still adjusting to his new life with his dad in Star City, imagine a double dose of Smoak women. “I mean,” she begins to walk it back, but Donna is already talking.

“Oh, I’d love to meet him! I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of my future step-grandson!” Donna claps her hands together in excitement. “We should have dinner. Oh, that would be perfect. We can have one of those nice family dinners like we used to last time you and Oliver were together, only now it will be all four of us!”

The mental image is a little paralyzing to Felicity, but she manages to nod. “Mmmm.” Because, yeah, whenever Donna was in town during her recovery, or while they were planning the wedding, she’d insist on family dinners with Oliver. Part of Felicity loves that her mother and her boyfriend get along so well; a larger part wishes Oliver never got the chance to hear all of those embarrassing Baby Felicity stories her mother just loves to tell.

“Oh, are we going to stop by City Hall like you mentioned?” Donna asks, her tone and her expression bright with hope. “We can ask Oliver then!”

“Sure. We can do that.” Felicity brings her mug to her mouth and drains it. “I need more coffee for this,” she mutters to herself as she walks back to the kitchen sink. “So much more coffee.”

 

& & &

 

Oliver is grudgingly reviewing the “compromise” re-zoning proposal that Councilor Wainwright and his allies have submitted when he hears a familiar knock. His swirling frustration dissipates quickly when he looks up to see Felicity leaning into his office doorway.

“Hi,” she singsongs, and he immediately recognizes the nervousness in her tone and scans her quickly, reassuring himself that she’s okay. “Are you busy, or can my mom and I say hi for--”

“Oliver!” Donna exclaims, brushing right past Felicity and making a beeline for Oliver.

He stands quickly and skirts the edge of his desk just in time to catch Donna as she hurls herself at him for a hug. “Donna, hi.” He gives Felicity a look over her mother’s shoulder, but Felicity just shrugs and mouths sorry. Both Smoak women are wearing colorful dresses -- Donna in vibrant coral and Felicity in an eye-catching pattern of blues and purples -- but Felicity’s ponytail is very slightly droopy, and when Oliver looks closely, he can see the strain of tiredness in her face. He squeezes Donna gently and releases her, stepping back. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Then he shifts, gravitating towards Felicity, who’s lingering just inside the office doors. Because despite their newly rekindled relationship, their actual in-person interaction hasn’t increased all that much yet, and he really wants to kiss her right now.

But Felicity claps her hands together before he reaches her, and he stops, puzzled. Are they not telling people? Because he’s definitely told people. William, Thea, Raisa, and Dig, to name a few. He’s also pretty sure it’ll be in the papers, if it hasn’t been already -- he took Felicity to Chez Marta last night and held her hand every moment he wasn’t holding his utensils.

“I wanted to update you on, you know, the thing,” Felicity says quickly, her hands drawing strange figures in the air as she talks, “and my mother wanted to say hi, so here we are.”

Oliver can usually read his girlfriend very well, but between the strained smile on her lips and the stiff set of her shoulders, he’s at a bit of a loss. “Oh.” Then he frowns. “Update?” Because he hasn’t actually seen her since leaving her apartment Wednesday night, but they’ve exchanged several calls and quite a few texts since then. Plus he and Quentin and Rene discussed the construction collapse over breakfast this morning, so he’s pretty sure he’s up to date.

“Our working theory,” Felicity says, “is that the collapse was due to substandard concrete. StanCo will source a different company for the rebuild, which will add several months to the project.” Oliver nods, listening to her explain most of what he already knew. “And a bunch of cost overruns,” Felicity adds. “But also there is some,” she pauses, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she considers her words, “creative math involved.”

Oliver glances down, looking for the StanCo bid paperwork. “Creative math? How did the finance office miss that?”

“Oh, not in the publicly available paperwork,” Felicity explains. Oliver stills, watching her try to avoid admitting to hacking with her mother in the room. Felicity gives Donna a smile. “Sometimes I help Oliver out with City Hall stuff. You know, setting up databases, writing little programs to make the number stuff easier.”

“Right,” Donna answers, but Oliver can tell she’s not fully buying it.

“Anyway.” Felicity turns back to him, her hands clasped together. “My first instinct is that the collapse the other night was fairly run-of-the-mill corner cutting, but I think there’s enough smoke around StanCo to warrant taking a closer look.”

Oliver can’t help but smile at her intentional vagueness. “Right,” he says, giving her a knowing look. He wants to ask for more detail, but Donna is practically bouncing up and down in his peripheral vision, and her obvious excitement draws his attention.

Before he can ask if she’s okay, Donna chirps, “Family dinner!” With a jarringly loud clap of her hands.

Oliver turns wide eyes to Felicity, who nods. “My mother is very... enthusiastic about you and I being together again, and she thinks we should--”

“We should have a family dinner,” Donna interrupts, talking as quickly as Felicity does when she’s over-caffeinated. “Oh, Oliver, won’t that be so great? I can’t wait to meet William!” Her hands are clasped together just below her chin, charm turned up to eleven, the Smoak family resemblance is undeniable in moments like these.

“The four of us?” he realizes, warm feelings of rightness in his chest blossoming. Family has always been the most important thing to Oliver, and what he’d missed the most during his time away. And the Smoak women are family to him -- he wants them to be family to William, too. “You want to have--”

“The first of many post-reunion Smoak-Queen dinners!” Donna nods eagerly, her blonde waves shimmering with the movement. She looks to her daughter and then back to him. “Yes!”

“The first Clayton-Smoak-Queen dinner,” Felicity corrects, explaining, “William’s last name is Clayton.”

“Okay!” Donna turns eager eyes Oliver’s way. “Tomorrow night?”

Still a bit overwhelmed by Donna’s enthusiastic embrace of him and his son, whom she hasn’t even met, Oliver can only nod.

“Great!” Donna loops her arm through Felicity’s. “We’ll get out of your hair, Oliver.”

“Oh, you don’t have to leave.” He turns a pleading look toward Felicity, but she’s already shaking her head.

“We don’t want to run into,” Felicity lowers her voice to a whisper, “Quentin. We’re probably already pushing our luck, so we should go.”

Oliver nods. He knows Quentin regrets how things ended with Donna, and he’s sure they would both be civil if they ran into each other, but he can certainly understand the instinct to avoid it if possible. “Well, until tomorrow, then.”

The Smoak women link arms, give him matching jaunty waves, and disappear as suddenly as they had appeared.

 

& & &

 

Big Belly is predictably a madhouse on a Friday night, but Felicity doesn’t mind. She and her mom are in comfortable sundresses and sandals after spending a couple hours down at the Bay. They’re both windswept and maybe a bit sunburned in places, and a day like this practically requires greasy fries, juicy burgers, and delicious, delicious shakes.

Even if they’re crammed into a small two-top near the door, surrounded by exuberant teenagers and young adults. It occurs to her that William will be one of these gangly teenagers soon enough.

“Hon,” Donna says, swirling a french fry in the massive pool of ketchup on her plate, “I just want you to know I’m proud of you.”

Felicity stills. “Thank you?” she says, a little confused by the timing of her mother’s comment. She spent a good portion of the afternoon talking her mother’s ear off about her ideas for Smoak Technologies (even if she never quite used the name, because she doesn’t want to get her mother’s hopes up if she fails).

“The most important thing a parent can ever want for their kid is happiness,” Donna says, “and I think you’re finally there, in all aspects of your life.”

“What do you mean, in all aspects of my life?” Felicity presses.

Donna ducks her head, smiling down at the table. “I was worried about you,” she confesses, “when you and Oliver broke up. You lost your position at Palmer Tech--”

“Stupid jerk Mr. Dennis,” Felicity mutters. She’s still pretty mad about it.

“And the man you chose to marry was out of your life, and I just...” Donna hesitates. “I was worried you’d lose yourself.”

And suddenly Felicity knows what her mother’s talking about. “You mean like when dad left,” she says, her voice frustratingly unsteady. “Or with Cooper.”

“Felicity, you’re my favorite person in the world,” Donna says, her words and her gaze intense, like she’s willing Felicity to understand. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done. And it always hurt my heart when you couldn’t see your own brilliance, your own value.”

Felicity wants to argue that she knows her own worth, that she’s always known, but she’s never been good at lying to herself. She knows her fear of abandonment runs deep. It colors how she sees the world, and her place in it.

And maybe some of her complicated feelings about being a parent-like figure to William have been shaded by the memory of the seven year old girl whose father walked out on her.

“What if William’s better off with Oliver than with the two of us together?” she whispers, finally giving voice to the doubt that’s been clinging to her for weeks. “He’s still adjusting to Oliver, what if me being a constant presence destabilizes their bonding?”

“Oh, Felicity.” Donna leans across the table, cradling her daughter’s face a little too tightly. “Kids can never have too many people who love them in their lives. And the fact that you’re so worried about this tells me you’ll be exactly what he needs.”

“Yeah,” Felicity scoffs, because her instinct is to deflect, “I can help him with his homework.”

Donna’s gaze sharpens. “Do you mean to tell me you didn’t appreciate Mr. Hashemi in 3D who used to help you with your physics?”

“I loved Mr. Hashemi!” Felicity protests even as the visceral memory of his apartment hits her -- a collection of expensive but aging furniture, the persistent scent of cardamom, and the kind attention of a widower with no children of his own. She’d always been gifted at math and coding, but had occasionally struggled with the more practical applications of physics. Mr. Hashemi had been a patient, positive influence on her, providing the kind of schoolwork help her mother couldn’t.

“See? Family isn’t just about blood, Felicity,” Donna says. “And William will be lucky to have you.”

For a woman so often dismissed as flighty or stupid, Donna Smoak has incredible emotional intelligence and the annoying ability to read Felicity’s fears even when she hasn’t been able to put words to them yet. “You think?” she manages, her voice thick with tears.

“Baby girl,” Donna continues quietly, “I’m going to let you in on a secret: parents don’t always know what they’re doing, or how to be what their kids need. But the most important thing parents can do for their kids is love them and be there for them.”

Put like that, it doesn’t sound as terrifying. “I just worry how we’ll all fit together. I don’t want to monopolize Oliver’s time.”

Donna quirks a knowing eyebrow. “And have you explained this to Oliver?”

Flushing, Felicity ducks her head, overly interested in the last few, french fries on her plate. “No,” She says, as she drags a fry through the ketchup. “I’ll talk to him this weekend.”

“Good,” Donna tells her, then sits back with a sigh. “I don’t know about you, baby girl, but I am full!”

 

& & &

 

John Diggle learned the importance of routine in the military, and even now, with the... less structured atmosphere of what Felicity insists on calling Team Arrow, he values having a specific set of tasks each time he arrives at the bunker. It helps him ensure he’s always fully prepared before going into the field.

After his perimeter check, a cursory review of the security camera footage, and a quick injection to keep his tremors under control, John pulls down his primary weapons for cleaning and maintenance. Cleaning his guns and inventorying his bullets are one of John’s favorite tasks -- the predictability is soothing.

His Glock is broken down into its components on the stainless steel work table when he hears Oliver emerge from downstairs, where he’d been going through calisthenics. Oliver’s on the phone, paying little attention to John, who realizes with a smirk that it’s Felicity on the other end of the line.

“I can make the duck confit,” Oliver says in that soft voice he only ever uses with Felicity, “but William is twelve, and I’m not sure how that’ll go over with him.” A pause, and then Oliver is attempting to break into what John knows must be a stream of apologies and deflections from Felicity. “No, it’s-- Felicity-- Right, but-- It’s-- It’s fine, Felicity,” he finally manages with a little laugh. “How could you possibly know what William likes?”

John wrinkles his nose, wondering if Felicity and her skittishness about William -- or, John suspects, about the realities of parenting William -- has really registered yet with Oliver. When Oliver suggests another dish and rather quickly ends the call, John turns to find him frowning at the phone in his hand.

“Evening,” John greets. “How’s Felicity?”

Oliver’s confusion is replaced by a genuine smile, the likes of which John hasn’t seen in quite some time. “She’s good. She’s great, actually. But Donna’s in town, so--”

“So no Team Arrow for her tonight,” John surmises. “Duck confit?” he questions.

“Donna and Felicity are coming over tomorrow for dinner with William and me,” Oliver explains, and he’s so excited that he’s practically preening.

“A family dinner,” John says, and Oliver ducks his head to hide that unrelenting smile.

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. He straightens up, quickly changing the subject. “Felicity found something on StanCo. Well, several somethings.”

John tilts his head. “Bookkeeping issues?” he guesses.

Oliver points at him. “Yes. And StanCo routinely lost bids for redevelopment projects for years. Patterson originally started StanCo to flip houses.”  

John shakes his head, turning his attention back to the gun in pieces on the worktable. “Buying distressed properties, giving them facelifts, and listing them for hundreds of thousands more than comparable houses in the neighborhood,” he surmises, cleaning the barrel. “Any complaints on file about that?”

Oliver sighs, leaning back against the empty work table where he sharpens his arrows. “There are several breach of contract and construction defect cases settled out of court, one fraud investigation, and a few complaints on file with the Better Business Bureau.”

John throws an unimpressed look Oliver’s way. “Let me guess: nothing sticks?”

“Not so far,” Oliver confirms. “Technically, they’ve got a clean record. Back in 2011, they won their first municipal bid after years of trying. The city hired Patterson’s company to knock down a whole block of distressed rowhouses and build condos with integrated smart technology. Now StanCo is the go-to builder for projects designed to bring young professionals in -- his marketing centers on technology-enabled living.”

John quirks an eyebrow. “And what does Felicity have to say about that?”

Oliver’s reflexive smile at the thought of his girlfriend is quite something. “Well, she had quite a few things to say about their terrible security,” Oliver answers, gesturing towards the monitors. “She also got a feed from the video-conferencing software at StanCo, so we have eyes and ears on their inner workings while we try to untangle the irregularities in their books.”

“Research moves a lot faster with a brilliant hacker and no due process requirements,” John agrees acerbically. He wipes his hands and starts to reassemble the Glock in his methodical fashion. “So we get more intel, and then we figure out what avenue to pursue.”

“You mean,” Oliver says slowly, turning over the idea as he talks, “whether the mayor or the Green Arrow should be having a conversation with Patterson.”

John clicks the last piece of his Glock into place and lifts the gun, sighting along the barrel to confirm everything’s in place. His hand shakes a little, and he brings the gun down quickly, hoping Oliver’s too distracted to notice. “Yes,” he says quickly, “it seems like discretion is the better part of valor, at least for the moment.”

Oliver is visibly impatient to do something even as he grudgingly agrees. “I guess so.”

Placing the Glock back into its case, John pulls another black case towards him and opens it, pulling the powerful Desert Eagle from its foam home. “So what are you going to cook for the Smoak women tomorrow?” he asks.

 

& & &

 

Felicity isn’t surprised when Curtis shows up at the loft Saturday morning around 10; she is a little surprised, however, that he has a very attractive man in tow. Beside Curtis is a stout, muscular man, with a luxurious amount of shiny dark hair, a strong nose, and sharp brown eyes 

“Um, hi?” Felicity greets, stepping aside to let Curtis and his friend enter.

“This is Niraj Mehta, esquire,” Curtis says, flashing what can only be described as heart-eyes at the man beside him.

Niraj flushes a bit. “Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking Felicity’s hand.  

“We’re going out to lunch, then hitting the aquarium,” Curtis explains excitedly. “Niraj loves turtles. But I figured you two should meet.”

Felicity introduces herself and her mother, ushering them all towards the windows, where their makeshift workspace contains a haphazard collection of worktables; a mishmash of chairs; the imposing, out of place dining table; and a large, clear, dry erase board. She’d loved the idea of the see-through board, but putting it near the floor-to-ceiling windows was definitely a mistake, because now she squints into the sunlight all day.

Niraj drifts closer to the dry erase board, eyeing their list of potential business names with interest. He turns to Felicity. “Have you filed any organizational paperwork for your company?”

Felicity leans against the end of the dining room table and turns wide eyes to Curtis. “Uh,” she flounders, “no?” She has definitely printed out several forms and read a bunch of legal-to-humanspeak comparisons of LLCs, PLCs, and corporations, but that decision feels pretty momentous, so she’s kind of putting it off. A little bit. Maybe.

“We’re still workshopping the name,” Curtis says, dropping into the enormous bean bag chair. “I keep telling her to go with Smoak Technologies.”

Donna lets out a delighted noise, and Felicity twists a bit to look at her mother, who’s seated at the dining room table. “We haven’t made any decisions,” she tells Donna quickly, almost defensively. Shifting, Felicity pulls herself up to sit on the end of the dining room table, turning a bit so she can see her mother without twisting around.

Donna’s eyes are sparkling as she nods -- even if she doesn’t say anything more on the topic, Felicity can feel her mother’s excitement over the very idea of her daughter’s company bearing the Smoak name.

“It’s complicated,” Felicity says, trying to temper her mother’s expectations. “There are marketing issues to consider -- you know, Smoak/smoke, and is fire really the best association for a technology company?”

“Sure,” Donna says, reaching for her near-empty coffee mug.

Uncertain, Felicity turns back to Curtis and Niraj. Curtis is watching Niraj with a small smile on his lips.

“Okay!” Niraj moves away from the dry erase board and drops into the desk chair that’s  not actually paired with a desk. “First, I should say I’m not an IP lawyer, and if you want to contest ownership of the biochip,” he glances to Curtis for confirmation of the terminology, then continues, “you’re going to want lawyers. Good lawyers.”

And, wow, does Felicity miss Laurel with a sudden, familiar ache. But she manages a rueful smile. “You mean expensive lawyers.”

Niraj nods unapologetically. “It seems to me that the subject matter -- this biochip -- is cutting edge technology. You want the person representing you to fully understand the biochip, how it’s made, and its technological uniqueness.”

It’s a reasonable point -- a lawyer who gets Curtis’s invention and her security measures will be worth a significant amount of money. “Point taken,” Felicity says.

Niraj considers her for a moment, and then relaxes incrementally. “Generally speaking, you’ll need someone to research what patents and trademarks Palmer Tech has, and whether any of them directly impact your biochip. Do you think they filed a patent application for the biochip?” Niraj asks Curtis. “They would need technical specifications, drawings, that sort of thing.”

“No,” Curtis shakes his head vehemently, then turns to Felicity. “I swear, I never gave them schematics. I didn’t even really make schematics -- I just tinkered with the actual chip until I got a workable prototype, then pieced together your chip.”

Niraj eyes go very wide and he looks back and forth between them, finally settling his gaze on Felicity. “Wait, you’re the person with the biochip?”

Felicity gives him a tight smile. “Incomplete paralysis at the L2 vertebrae,” she recites, swinging her legs up and down like a child on a swingset to demonstrate her restored function. Even more than a year after being able to feel and move her lower half again, Felicity can still so easily be pulled right back to the anxiety of adjusting to her paralysis:  the endless doctor’s appointments, struggling her way through complicated New England Journal of Medicine papers on incomplete spinal cord injuries, and the bitter frustration of looking down at her toes and just... not being able to move them.

Felicity takes a careful breath. “Curtis gave me an incredible gift,” she says, a bit of a tremor in her voice because sometimes the magnitude of her miracle hits her anew, “and it’s morally indefensible for Palmer Tech to block this type of miracle for other people with nerve damage.”

“That’s right, hon,” Donna chimes in supportively, leaning closer to pat her daughter’s leg.

“Plus,” Curtis chimes in excitedly, “the research potential! This biochip is very specific to acute injuries where only a particularly damaged bit of the neural pathway needs to be bridged, but there’s a real possibility this type of technology could be adapted to restore nerve function even in chronic conditions that involve nerve degeneration at multiple points!”

If Felicity is not mistaken, Niraj’s appreciation for Curtis goes past simple admiration for his mind, and she’s definitely going to need details of their aquarium date later. Beside her, Donna sighs happily, and she and her mother exchange squeeful looks. 

“So,” Felicity says eventually, “what are our realistic options?”

Niraj holds her gaze for a long moment, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to be the one to disappoint her. “Curtis’s assignment of invention is pretty typical, no outrageous demands, nothing that the courts have tossed out before,” he explains. “I don’t think you’ll win an argument with Palmer Tech about the biochip considering the fairly standard Assignment of Invention he signed in their favor.”

Felicity slumps. “Frak.”

“But,” Niraj continues, “that’s not your only option, of course.”  He looks at Curtis, then back to Felicity. “I understand you’ve been working on some sort of cutting edge encryption?”

Felicity chuckles. “Only since I was nine.” Seeing Niraj’s puzzled look, she clarifies, “I mean, I’ve been studying encryption and security since I learned how to code. But, yes, I’m currently working on something to make absolutely sure no one can use the chip in my spine as a weapon. Or a tracker.”

Niraj nods and then she gets it.

“If I can perfect this encryption idea,” she says slowly, “that could be leverage.”

Curtis brightens. “For all sorts of things, actually. It’s independently marketable.”

Felicity tips her head to the side, considering the implications. “The fewer black hats that know of the existence of this encryption, the less likely anyone is to break it,” she muses. Then she sits upright with a grin. “I’ve got it.”

 

& & &

 

Oliver nervously flits around the kitchen, organizing the dry ingredients for their meal to make sure he’s got everything ready to go, and the schedule hammered out. He mostly ignores the way William is splitting his attention between his book and watching his father with open amusement.

“Hey, bud?” Oliver calls when he has a lull in meal preparation.

William looks up at him with curious eyes. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?” When William shrugs in acquiescence, Oliver takes a moment to choose his words. “You know how Felicity can be... exuberant?”

William’s answering grin is contagious. “You mean ‘cause she talks a lot?”

“Yes, and she can get very,” Oliver’s gaze slides up to the ceiling for a moment, “animated when she’s talking about something she loves, like--”

“Like coding,” William interrupts, nodding. “Or algebra.”

That takes Oliver a moment to digest. Algebra? Really? “Yeah, like that. Well, her mother is coming to dinner, too.”

“I know,” William says, with a hint of the disinterested teenager he’ll be in a few short months.

“Donna -- Felicity’s mother -- she’s like Felicity, but... moreso,” Oliver says.

William’s eyebrows lift. “She likes algebra more than Felicity?”

“No, not like--” Oliver shakes his head. “They get excited about different things, but the general...” He trails off, grasping for a way to explain the Smoak women without comparing them to each other. Finally, he just shrugs and says, “I just want you to be prepared for a lot of,” he shrugs, “energy.”

William turns his attention back to his book with a mumbled, “Okay.”

Oliver considers pushing the issue, but realizes there’s no easy way to explain Donna Smoak. And he’s looking forward to seeing how William handles a double dose of Smoak enthusiasm.

When the timer chimes, Oliver turns his attention back to his meal preparation with a grin.

 

& & &

 

Lyla is midway through the after action report on the DRC incident -- ARGUS agents successfully sabotaged a gun-running operation by poachers, which, in Lyla’s opinion, is a win on two fronts -- when her desk phone buzzes.

“Yes,” she answers, only half listening until Jerome announces that he has a Felicity Smoak to see her. Lyla frowns. “Send her up.”

Minutes later, Felicity appears in a characteristically cheery sunflower-patterned day dress and pink heels. She’s incongruous, here, in the best way, and Lyla rises to greet her friend with a brisk hug and an invitation to sit.

Carefully pressing the skirt of her dress down, Felicity turns her gaze to Lyla. “So. Hi. Sorry to barge in unannounced.”

Lyla waves off the apology. “You’re always welcome, Felicity. You know that.” She knows already that this isn’t a friendly drop-in, and she mentally sifts through the last day or two of incident reports she’s read, but nothing immediately stands out as Green Arrow-related.

“Right.” Felicity nods. “I just--” She pauses, clearly trying to decide how best to phrase her question. “I was hoping to run something by you, and then maybe you could help me figure out how to target potential investors.”

Lyla blinks once. “That’s not how I expected your sentence to end, but sure.” Because in Lyla’s world, targeting usually involves actual weaponry.

“Oh, well,” Felicity clutches the armrests of the visitor’s chair. “It’s just that I’m working with Curtis to figure out a way to make biochips like the one in my spine available to other people who could benefit from it.”

“Johnny mentioned,” Lyla says with a smile, remembering the proud look on Johnny’s face when he’d tried -- and mostly failed -- to explain the chip Curtis invented and how Felicity wanted to make that kind of technology widely available. “It’s a wonderful idea.”

Felicity hums her agreement. “There are a few complications,” she says, speaking quickly now, “too boring to get into -- and anyway, I need to make sure there’s no way for bad guys to access the biochips before we can even consider distribution.”

Lyla purses her lips. “Not just criminals,” she muses, though that’s honestly the scariest of the options she can think of -- imagine an assassin being able to disable a biochip like Felicity’s, leaving the target much more vulnerable. But despite some of the more... pragmatic realities of Lyla’s job, she appreciates the privacy concerns, too. “I’m sure Big Data firms would love to use this kind of thing for market research.”

Felicity harrumphs. “Right. Bad guys.”

With a laugh, Lyla concedes the point. “Okay,” she says, refocusing on Felicity’s stated goal, “so you’re looking for investors for the biochip idea?”

“Nope,” Felicity shakes her head for good measure. “Well, I mean, sure, but not right now. The biochip piece is step two. Step one is developing the security protocols for a digital device that’s way more personal than even your beloved cellphone.”

“Why not make the chip wholly self-contained?” Lyla asks, working through the problem. “The only way to truly ensure it can’t be hacked is to make it so it can’t be accessed remotely, right?”

“Right,” Felicity agrees, “but Curtis created my biochip with my specific injury in mind, and even still, it was a learning process. To broaden the application, we need to accept that we can’t solve 100 different problems with 1 solution.” Felicity watches Lyla expectantly, then continues. “Each chip will need to be,” she waves a hand impatiently, “tuned to the specific person and the specific nerve injury, but since the implantation is surgical, it’s not really practical to try to adjust it perfectly and then--” She slaps her hands together like she’s brushing crumbs away-- “just be done with it. Ideally, the biochip would be able to be adjusted over time, both to adapt to the specific person, but also as the person’s neural pathways knit themselves back together via the biochip.”

Lyla mostly followed Felicity’s explanation, so she nods. “Got it. So if there needs to be an avenue for communication--”

“It needs,” Felicity interjects, “to be unbreakable security, but as lightweight a security protocol as possible to preserve the battery power and storage space on a biochip that’s manufactured as teeny-tiny as possible.”

When understanding hits, Lyla stills. “Elite encryption protocols for bio-integrated devices?” she says, her brain already working through potential applications in the clandestine security world.

“Exactly.” Felicity grins proudly. “I’ve been working on an improvement to elliptic curve cryptography.”

And... Lyla is mostly lost again. “I majored in history and politics, Felicity,” she points out with a small shrug. “I can tell you in great detail how cryptography helped the United States in World War II, but not the mathematics behind how it actually works.

Felicity launches into an eager description of the technology, and why and how it produces a near-uncrackable encryption based on significantly smaller encryption keys. Lyla has learned a lot about technology at ARGUS, but not enough to follow something as advanced as what Felicity’s describing. Eventually, she raises her hands in surrender, and Felicity stops talking abruptly.

“Sorry,” Felicity says, wrinkling her nose. “I get excited. But the technology is there, and I’m going to make it even better.”

Lyla nods slowly, thinking back through what Felicity has said. As Felicity’s friend, she’s excited by her initiative to bring the kind of injury recovery she experienced to others; as the director of ARGUS, Lyla has much more interest in the encryption that Felicity’s describing. State-sponsored, large-scale cyber attacks are a constant issue, and there are at least three countries who most likely have surreptitious access to communications devices and software used by ARGUS. What Felicity is describing could keep Lyla’s agents safe.

“If you’re looking for investors,” she tells Felicity, leaning forward, “ARGUS is willing to pay a premium for exclusive rights to this technology.”

Mouth dropping open, Felicity just stares at her friend for a moment, blinking rapidly. “Wait, what?”

“By exclusive, I mean in the intelligence sector,” Lyla clarifies, mentally reviewing her discretionary budget. “You’re exactly right that biodevices need to be unhackable, and I wouldn’t do anything to harm that objective.”

“Uh,” Felicity says, “okay. I mean -- I didn’t come here to give you a sales pitch, Lyla.”

With a smile, Lyla crosses her hands together on her desk. “I know that. And for anyone else, I’d require a proof of concept. But I know your capabilities, Felicity, and the operational security that technology like that could give my agents is worth quite a bit to me.”

Felicity nods, because she understands the need to keep her team safe.

“So,” Lyla says, “we should talk timelines and fees, and I’ll need a W-9 to get the contracting team started.”

The surprise finally wears off, replaced by a giddy sort of happiness as Felicity nods. “Great!”

 

& & &

 

Felicity spends a truly absurd amount of time trying to decide what to wear to dinner at Oliver and William’s place. Tonight feels important, like it marks the beginning of something -- some new Clayton-Smoak-Queen tradition. 

The very thought makes her insides feel all fluttery with anticipatory happiness.

But she is also hyper-conscious of the fact that this is the first time she’ll be seeing William when he thinks of her as his father’s girlfriend. Will that change how he reacts to her? Will he even like her anymore?

And to make things just a little more complicated, the irrepressible Donna Smoak is joining them.

It has all the makings of a disaster, to be quite honest. And Felicity knows how to dress for a disaster -- dark colors, ponytail, and sneakers she can run in. But probably her best Felicity in the Field outfit isn’t appropriate for dinner.

In the end, she chooses a fitted, bright raspberry shirt with a swishy peplum, and a dark navy pencil skirt in an easy jersey fabric. She puts her hair in a ponytail, fusses over her jewelry, and grabs a pair of navy blue Mary Janes on her way downstairs.

Her mother is wearing a canary yellow dress that is reasonably modest through the bust -- at least by Donna Smoak standards. Of course, the dress also hits her mid thigh, and she’s wearing nude platform pumps.

Felicity stifles a laugh and joins her mother near the door, pausing to slip on her shoes. “Ready?”

Donna nods eagerly. “I can’t wait to meet William!”

Felicity’s stomach flips, and she manages a smile and a non-committal noise before ushering her mother to the door.

It’s a short drive to Oliver’s building, and Felicity uses the fob Oliver gave her to access the parking garage, and pulls in besides his Audi. The Smoak ladies take the elevator in silence to the third floor. It’s not until Felicity is standing in front of Oliver’s door, hand raised to knock, that anxiety hits.

“Mom?” Her voice comes out high and a little thready. Her chest feels a little tight, and she tries to take a deep, slow breath.

“Felicity,” Donna says, her hands coming down on Felicity’s shoulders. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Right,” Felicity mutters, trying to convince herself to knock.

Before she does, the door opens, revealing William’s smiling face. He points towards the ceiling. “There’s a camera,” he explains, then leans forward to hug Felicity, all awkward limbs and affection. “Hi!”

Felicity exhales shakily, her arms coming up to encircle William. “Hi, William.” She squeezes him close, then relaxes her grip and smiles down at the boy’s eager face. Pointing to her mother, she introduces her to William. “This is my mother, Donna Smoak.”

Suddenly bashful, William’s shoulders curve in a bit as he looks up at Donna through his lashes. “Hi.”

“Oh, aren’t you handsome!” Donna chirps, stepping forward to hug the surprised preteen. William’s arms cautiously lift and he very, very lightly taps Donna on the back. “You can call me Bubbe!”

“Mom,” Felicity whispers.

Donna glances over her shoulder at Felicity with wide, faux-innocent eyes. “What?”

“Donna!” Oliver greets them, appearing in the doorway. He looks delicious -- trim dark jeans and a crisp blue shirt, unbuttoned at the throat and with the sleeves rolled up. And an apron with a cartoon rooster, of all things, tied around his waist. “Felicity, hi! Come in!”

Donna releases a slightly red-faced William, but slings an arm around his shoulder, tapping Oliver’s shoulder as she moves past him into the apartment. “I haven’t been to your dad’s new place,” Donna tells William. “Wanna give me the tour?”

Oliver watches them with a grin, then turns back to Felicity and says again, softly this time, “Hi.”

Felicity whimpers and moves into his arms, burying her face in his chest even though it presses her glasses into the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath, his scent and his calm embrace helping to soothe her nerves. “I’m so sorry about my mother.”

“Felicity,” Oliver chuckles, his warm palms rubbing soothing patterns on her back. “She’s fine.”

“She,” Felicity counters, leaning back just far enough to frown up at him, “already told your son to call her Bubbe.”

Oliver shrugs. “Okay?”

“It means grandmother,” she hisses.

Oliver shifts uncomfortably. “Samantha’s parents aren’t really in his life, and my parents are gone. Would it be the worst thing in the world for him to think of your mother as a grandparent?”

The question stops her cold. That poor child. And poor Oliver trying to create a family for his son. “Of course not,” she concedes. “I just don’t want her to get ahead of herself.”

Oliver’s brow furrows in that way that says he’s mildly upset but trying not to show it. “Felicity--”

“Dad!” William interrupts, “are you going to let your girlfriend into the apartment?”

The tension breaks, and Felicity grins up at Oliver, relieved at this first sign that maybe William will accept her as his dad’s girlfriend. “Yeah, Oliver, are you going to let your girlfriend in?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, pausing only to press a soft kiss to her lips. Then he steps back, wraps her hand in his, and tugs her inside. And, yeah, to her surprise, this feels both easy and kind of momentous.

Predictably, Oliver has gone slightly overboard for this dinner. There’s a cheese plate on the bar that separates the living room from the kitchen, and a bottle of white wine waiting in a black marble wine chiller. The large table is laid with four plate settings, three bud jars with vibrant pink Gerber daisies, and -- because Oliver knows how much wine two Smoak woman can consume -- an unopened bottle of an Italian red to pair with dinner.

“It looks lovely in here,” Felicity murmurs, “and it smells even better.”

“Oh, yeah?” Oliver has yet to let her go, so she accompanies him into the kitchen where he tends to the brasato al barolo. William and Donna settle companionably at the bar; William grazes for cheese and crackers while Donna pours herself a generous glass of wine.

“So,” Donna begins cheerfully, “I sure am glad to meet you, William. Felicity told me a lot about you, but I want to hear it from you, too.” Her voice is warm and open, and Felicity is reminded just how natural her mother is with kids. “I am so sorry that you lost your mother,” Donna tells William. A mention of Samantha would dampen the mood in most circumstances, but Donna continues, straightforward and compassionate. “I lost my mother when I was sixteen. Not quite the same, of course, but I remember how much it hurt, and how scary it was to figure out what comes next.” She glances around Oliver’s apartment with a bright smile. “I can see what’s great about living here with your dad, but what’s your favorite thing about where you lived before?”

Oliver’s hand tightens almost painfully around Felicity’s, but she can’t take her gaze off of William.

The boy’s expression is a little sad, a little confused, and a little curious as he considers Donna’s question. Felicity knows that Oliver has been walking on eggshells with his son, but that’s never been Donna’s style. She is brash but genuine, and William seems to appreciate that.

“I miss my room,” he admits slowly. “We had a house in Central City, not an apartment, so I had a tree outside my window,” William continues, affection slowly replacing sadness in his voice, “and sometimes this owl would come and hang out and hoot all night.” His face lights up with the memory. “I called him Hedwig.”

“Excellent choice,” Felicity tells him, and she and William share a conspiratorial look.

William looks at his father. “You don’t know who Hedwig is, do you?”

“Uh,” Oliver looks at Felicity, then back to his son. “An... owl?”

Felicity hides her face in Oliver’s shoulder as she laughs.

“Hedwig,” Donna answers primly, “is Harry Potter’s owl.”

William looks impressed. “You know Harry Potter?” he asks Donna.

“I know Harry Potter,” Oliver mutters defensively. When Felicity laughs harder, he adds, quietly, “Kind of.” And he catches her eye, his eyebrow quirking just enough to remind her of warm nights in Sedona, where she’d made him read _Prisoner of Azkaban_ to her because he’d booked them into a spa complex with no TV and no wifi.

“Felicity,” Donna tells William, “loved Harry Potter when she was your age. We read those books a lot.”

“Really?” William asks.

By the time they sit down to eat, Donna has won William over completely. Donna is lively and unfazed by the times when William doesn’t want to answer a question, or gets quiet when he’s reminded of Samantha. Donna is pure support, and if Felicity is honest, she envies her mother’s maternal instincts.

 

& & &

 

As the surprisingly successful Clayton-Smoak-Queen dinner finally winds down, Oliver insists on clearing the table. His mother’s etiquette lessons were drilled into him early, and he still can’t abide his guests performing anything that feels like housework.

Thankfully, the Harry Potter conversations led to William suggesting they watch one of the movies, which is confirmation that he’s comfortable with both of the Smoak women. It’s more proof of this little family he’s building, and it makes Oliver’s chest ache in the best way.

Felicity ushers her mother and his son over to the couch and masters the technology in seconds, accessing his streaming services to start the movie-- his passwords are still the same, and she tosses him a disapproving look about it.

Meanwhile, Oliver clears the table in a few trips, smiling to himself as he listens to the others’ playful bickering. He’s studiously rinsing dishes and glasses when Felicity joins him. He looks up in surprise. “Do you need something?”

She gives him a mildly offended look. “I was going to offer to help you,” she says, one hand on her hip. “Since William is settled in with my mom, criticizing the cinematic depiction of Hogwarts.”

Oliver swipes his damp hand against his pants and reaches for her, looping his arm around her waist to pull her closer to his side. He leans in. “Thank you.” He’s pretty sure Felicity has no idea how natural she is with William, and he appreciates the effort she’s making. He loves her and he loves his son, and he just wants them to love each other, too. He wants them to be a family.

Felicity presses up and kisses him, slow and easy, the way it used to be between them.

He lets himself sink into it, turning to face her more fully, leaning into her. Kissing Felicity is a top five activity; he can’t get enough of her.

She eases back with a smile, but he can see the nervousness hiding behind it. “Let’s finish this, then I have a question for you.”

“Okay,” he answers carefully, kissing her once more before turning back to the dishes. He’s been waiting for a more in depth discussion about how everything will work now that he and Felicity are back together, since he and William are a package deal these days. He hasn’t pushed Felicity, because... well, because she’s normally so fearless that when she hesitates, it makes him nervous. Oliver knows her better than anyone else on the planet, but he still doesn’t always know how best to coax things out of her when she clams up.

They work together seamlessly, loading the dishwasher and hand-washing and towel-drying the stemware. When the sink is empty, Felicity rinses her hands, dries them on the towel he offers her, then tilts her head. “Can we go somewhere?” she asks quietly.

Oliver checks on Donna and William, but they’re sitting side by side on the couch, enraptured by Hogwarts. “Yeah,” he tells Felicity, matching her low tone. He takes her hand in his and leads her down the short hallway to his bedroom. “Uh,” he says, feeling the sudden flush of embarrassment in his face when he realizes the impression his choice could give her. “The apartment is mostly open concept,” he says by way of explanation.

Felicity laughs to herself, then steps into his bedroom. Oliver lets himself revel in her presence while she looks around. “This is nice,” she offers, and now that Felicity’s blonde hair and bright pink shirt are here to provide a contrast, Oliver realizes his bedroom is a hopelessly neutral collection of browns and greys.

“It’s okay,” he demurs, then quirks an eyebrow at her. “Could use more color.”

This time she snorts at him. “That’s a terrible line.”

“Not a line,” he protests. “Just an observation.”

Felicity drifts closer, her fingers easing along his biceps as she challenges him with a bemused look.

Instead of defending himself further, he leans in and kisses her. With intent.

His son and her mother are thirty feet and one open door away, so this won’t go where they both want it to, but he can’t seem to make himself ease off. Until Felicity’s hand drifts down to his ass, squeezing and urging him closer.

He groans and pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers as he struggles for control.

Felicity presses her palms flat against his torso, tilting her wrists, her fingers curling around his ribcage. “I can’t wait for my mother to go home,” she grumbles, but there’s no heat in her words.

Oliver laughs and straightens up, leading her to the foot of the bed. He sits, urging her to join him. She settles in beside him, and he shifts slightly, reaching for her hand to hold.

“You wanted to talk?” he prompts. Immediately, she stiffens, and Oliver frowns at her. “You okay?”

“Fine!” she answers, too quickly. “I’m fine. I just-- So there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Felicity shifts, bringing one knee a bit up onto the mattress to face him more fully. She’s pursing her lips and watching him closely, like she expects a bad reaction from him.

Oliver softens his voice, and does his best to project non-judgmental understanding. He thinks he understands her concern -- their breakup was because he’d lied to her about his son, and she’s probably worried that anything related to William could still be a delicate subject between the two of them. “We can talk about anything, Felicity.”

She takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “Well,” she begins, “I just... wanted to talk to you about QC.”

It takes Oliver a moment to recalibrate, and he realizes belatedly he’s frowning at her and tries to rein his expression back in. “Queen Consolidated?” he prompts, puzzled. That is not at all what he expected her to say.

Felicity chews on her lip for a moment. “Yeah.” She touches his thigh briefly with her free hand. “I know how much you want to keep QC in the family. Not,” she continues quickly, eyes wide and panicky, “that I think I’m family like that, like a Queen, because I don’t! Just-- I know you wanted to rehabilitate Queen Consolidated before Ray renamed it.”

Oliver tries very hard not to make a sour face at the reminder. “Felicity?” he prompts.

She nods, her face averted. “I just,” she begins, lifting her gaze to his, “I was fully prepared to work without a salary for a long time to get my idea off the ground. I mean, the amount of work it’ll take...” Wide-eyed, Felicity shrugs expansively. “It’s a lot. But I’m willing to do it.”

Oliver wonders, sometimes, what this firecracker of a woman sees in him. “You’re talking about Smoak Technologies,” he says.

Felicity flushes, her gaze skittering away from his. “I haven’t decided on a name.”

He can’t resist leaning closer and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I like Smoak Technologies,” he whispers.

“Do you like it enough to forfeit your legacy?” she jokes. Then she freezes, and Oliver realizes she’s accidentally voiced what she’s been edging towards.

But he can’t quite make sense of her joke. “I’m not following,” he tells her. Because he can’t seem to draw a line between the family company he lost and the business she’s trying to build for herself.

Felicity groans and drops her face into her hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted that out.”

“Blurted what out?” Oliver asks, genuinely lost.

“Palmer Tech,” Felicity says, and from her expression, she thinks this is an answer to his question. It is not. She watches him for a long moment before clarifying. “Queen Consolidated was renamed Palmer Tech.”

“Right,” Oliver agrees, trying not to clench his jaw as he remembers that press conference. And Felicity’s presence front and center.

“And Ray transferred a significant amount of stock to me, and persuaded the Board to name me CEO before he disappeared to become some sort of... time-hero.”

Oliver clenches his jaw. “Um-hmm.”  It doesn’t matter that Oliver knows now that Ray is a decent man. In his gut, Oliver resents Ray, at least a little bit. Ray, after all, swooped in and took over QC, erased the Queen legacy, and -- most unforgivably -- dated Felicity. He’s not proud of his envy, and he understands -- intellectually -- that Ray and Felicity’s relationship has nothing to do with him. But it still broke his heart, and he doubts he’ll ever fully forgive himself for pushing Felicity into Ray’s arms.

Felicity levels him with an unamused look, but she doesn’t comment on his obvious discomfort. “I’ve been working on incredibly secure, asymmetric encryption for these types of chips, to ensure no one’s mobility is ever compromised by a bad actor.”

Oliver’s breath catches. “Is that a possibility?” His hand smooths down her back, settling protectively over the scars low on her spine.

She shrugs off his concern. “Unless the chip is fully air-gapped, yes, but the original design includes connectivity capabilities for diagnostics. Otherwise, the chip would need to be,” she purses her lips for a moment, “taken out to address any malfunctions.”

Oliver winces at the idea, his hand rubbing lightly against her back. “Okay. Is your chip secure?”

“I’m working to make it more secure,” she says, and it’s not a terribly satisfying answer. “And, actually,” she continues, brightening in that way she does when she’s completed a satisfying hack, “it seems like ARGUS might be Smoak Technologies first customer! For the encryption piece, not the biochip. Obviously. But,” she waves a hand as if to get herself back on track, “it seems that Palmer Tech probably owns the rights to Curtis’s biochip. Which means we’ll either need to negotiate with them or... well...” She shrugs, a bashful look on her face. “Sue them.”

“Ah,” Oliver says, considering the potential repercussions.

“Right.,” Felicity nods, “and if we do end up suing them, we’re going to need some time, really good lawyers, and a whole lot of money.”

Oliver still isn’t quite able to connect the things she’s explained with her obvious expectation that he’ll be upset about something. “So you need angel investors?”

She presses her lips together, watching him with that telltale crinkle in her forehead for a long moment. “I need to sell some of my Palmer Tech stock. Maybe a lot of it,” she tells him, clearly bracing for a reaction.

Oliver exhales a little laugh. “Okay. Do you need a broker?”

“Oliver!” She seems exasperated with him, and he wants badly to kiss her. “I know you don’t love how I got the stock--”

Despite his best intentions, he huffs irritably.

“--but Palmer Tech stock is QC stock. Your family’s company. And I’d be selling that off, giving up any potential for you to regain it in the future, in order to start my own company.”

And finally he understands her concern. Her completely bizarre concern. “Felicity.” He leans closer. “If I had Palmer Tech stock, I would liquidate it tomorrow to invest in your company. In fact, I can probably use some of my trust fund to--”

“No!” Felicity interjects. “Oliver, you don’t have to do that.”

He leans in and kisses her quickly. “I want to. What happened with QC all those years ago was my fault. I don’t even really want the company back anymore -- it’s a positive force in the community, with or without my involvement. Besides, I want to watch you build something amazing because I have every faith that you can.” He pauses, weighing whether the rest of what he wants to say is too much. “And, Felicity? You are my family.”

Her eyes are shiny with tears behind her glasses. “Oliver,” she whispers.

He kisses her again, a little longer this time. “However I can help you build Smoak Technologies, I will.”

She searches his face. “Are you sure you don’t mind that I’ll have to sell PT stock?”

Gently, he frees his hand from hers and reaches up, cupping her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “I’m sure. I love you, Felicity.”

The tension leaves her body in a wave, and she practically throws herself against his chest. He lets her momentum carry him down onto his back, tugging her closer and shifting so he can kiss her properly.

She laughs against his lips. “I want to stay here in this bed with you for a couple hours, but we should really go watch Harry Potter with my mom and your son.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Oliver drops his head down onto the mattress. “Fine,” he agrees grumpily, but he’s smiling all the while.

 

& & &

 

John leads the rest of the frustrated team back into the bunker, doing his best to keep his own irritation under wraps. He’d repeatedly assured Oliver and Felicity that he and the others could handle anything that came up. Turns out, they couldn’t. Sure, they scared some of the Dragon’s rank and file drug packagers out of an abandoned office building at the edge of the Glades, but they’d failed to catch Diaz.

He’d failed -- missed a clear shot from his vantage point on a catwalk, with no obstructions or distractions. Just his own damn inadequacy.

Rene mutters something indecipherable and heads straight to the locker room, while Curtis hangs back a bit, looking between Dinah and John for a moment.

“At least we found another of Diaz’s spots, right?” Curtis suggests with a brief, nervous laugh. “Pretty good night’s work to report back to Oliver and Felicity.”

John grimaces and turns away, heading for the weapons cage to secure his guns for the night. He ignores the brief, low conversation between Curtis and Dinah, methodically removing the clips, racking the slides, and laying the guns on the worktable. One by one, he picks up the clips and starts to refill them; it’s something he’s done a million times, and before his injury, the amount of pressure needed to counteract the spring inside the cartridge had never really registered.

Tonight, though, it’s late, he’s tired, and the drug’s smoothing effects have started to wear off. The tremor in his right arm radiates down, making his hands shake while he tries to feed bullets into the clips.

When he hears Dinah’s booted footsteps approaching, he sighs and pushes the tray of bullets away, placing a nearly full clip beside it. “I know what you’re going to say,” he grumbles, turning face her and crossing his arms to support his weaker arm. “I missed the shot, okay?”

Dinah is an intelligent woman, and an excellent reader of people. So when she leans her shoulder against a beam and studies him for a long moment, Diggle struggles to remain impassive. “How’s your arm?” she asks finally, gesturing towards his right shoulder.

“It’s fine,” he answers, his words clipped. He can hear the defensiveness in his tone, but can’t seem to reel his emotions back in. “I’m fine. Sometimes I miss.”

Nodding, Dinah agrees, “Of course. I’m regularly tested on firearms and I miss, too. Particularly when the target is moving or,” she continues, her voice deceptively calm, “when I’m tired. Broke my elbow playing softball as a teenager, and when I’m tired, I lose some fine motor control in my left arm.”

John knows that she’s guessed his nerve damage is worse than he’s let on, but he just can’t admit it. Not when the lingering effects of his injury back on Lian Yu is just the tip of the iceberg -- the thought of telling Dinah how he’s managing the pain and the tremor makes him feel sick. So he turns back to three guns lying on the table, racks slid back, cartridges ejected, and goes back to work. “I’m fine,” he repeats, making it clear that the subject is closed.

Dinah lingers quietly, before she finally says, “I’m here, John. When you’re ready.”

His gut twists with shame, and he can’t bring himself to answer. He listens to the sound of her receding footsteps, then leans over, bracing his palms on the worktable.

“Dammit.”

 

& & &

 

The next night, Oliver expends some of his sexual frustration with a nice, long workout. He’s just finished his third set of goblet squats when he hears the telltale click of heels on concrete.

He looks up with an expectant smile to see Felicity breezing in, a bit of a bounce in her step. “My mother is gone!” she announces with a grin, redirecting her path from the raised dais to Oliver. She throws her arms around him and squeezes his torso. 

“Hon, I’m very sweaty,” Oliver points out with a laugh, wrapping her up in a loose, affectionate hug anyway.

Felicity presses a kiss to his bare chest, then leans back and tilts her head up towards him. “I know.” Her tone conveys her appreciation and her regret that she can’t drag him into the server room and have her way with him.

Oliver’s still smiling when he kisses her, and she runs her fingers lightly up and down his back.

“This,” John says from nearby, “I definitely didn’t miss.”

With a little disconsolate noise, Felicity stops kissing Oliver and turns her head to greet John. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here. But,” she continues, stepping out of Oliver’s embrace and heading towards the dais, “it’s a good thing you’re here, too.”

Oliver and John exchange puzzled looks and trail after her, up the stairs and onto her platform.

Felicity deposits her purse on the desktop and leans over the keyboard, logging in and pulling up her recent finds. “Because,” she says, cueing up the recording, “I think we’re going to need to rethink this Patterson thing.”

“Rethink it,” Oliver echoes. “Why?”

“Because Patterson,” she says, turning back to Oliver and John with an adorably dramatic flourish, “has been meeting with your nemesis, Councilor Wainwright.”

Oliver’s too concerned about the implications of a Patterson-Wainwright connection to object to Felicity calling Councilor Wainwright, of all people, his nemesis. Though the man is still holding up with the re-zoning project.

Felicity hits play and Oliver moves closer, eyes glued to the video.

“--tonight, and you need to handle this,” Stan Patterson says on screen. He’s glowering into the camera on his laptop, which gives the impression that he’s glowering at them.

“Unflattering angle,” Felicity mutters, ignoring the exasperated look Oliver gives her.

“This is your screw up,” Councilor Wainwright argues, staring determinedly about 10 degrees off from his camera. “We don’t need this kind of attention right now. Queen is using the collapse to push for a CBA, which would be quite a hindrance.”

Felicity frowns at the screen, while Oliver tries to work out how the CBA could possibly fit into whatever it is that Patterson and Wainwright are up to.

Patterson scowls harder. “We’re operating to your targets, which are too aggressive. We’ve already had this conversation.” Patterson flaps a hand dismissively in front of him. “The story will fade quickly, and you need to focus on the big picture.”

Wainwright’s face flushes with anger. “You’d do well to remember who brought you into this in the first place,” he says.

“This is recording,” John mutters, “right?”

“Oh, yes,” Felicity answers. “Saved to my heavily encrypted virtual drive.”

On screen, Patterson looks down at his keyboard as he orders, “You handle your end, I’ll take care of mine.” And then he unceremoniously ends the call.

They all take a moment to process that.

“So Wainwright brought Patterson into something,” Felicity says, “and Wainwright is worried that the construction collapse at the school site last week is putting too much pressure on that something, and also, Wainwright has targets for Patterson?” She stops talking for a moment, but Oliver knows her mind is going ten thousand miles an hour through the logical possibilities. “Kickbacks,” she suggests. “Wainwright makes sure Patterson gets bids, and Patterson thanks him with money?”

“Definitely could be,” John says. “Whatever it is, it’s not good.”

“And whatever it is,” Oliver says slowly, “it’s not just a political problem for the mayor, or a corruption problem for the Green Arrow -- it’s both.” The realization gives him that sinking feeling like he’s in over his head, because he’s pretty sure he could solve one aspect of this problem or the other -- but both?

John ignores Oliver’s use of the third person and says, “We need to talk to Quentin.”

“And Dinah,” Felicity says. “Political kickbacks are a little bit outside of our normal section of the penal code.”

“Patterson and Wainwright could both use a visit from the Green Arrow,” Oliver says, “but we should hold off until we coordinate with the SCPD.” He’s not a patient man, and the decision to wait grates at him.

Felicity drifts closer. “I can find you some street-level criminals to round up,” she offers. It’s probably not supposed to sound flirty, but Oliver’s gaze snaps to her anyway.

He looms over her a bit the way he knows she likes. “Oh, yeah?” he asks, his voice low and rough. They move closer to each other, the pull inexorable as a magnetic field.

John claps his hands together. “You definitely don’t need me for whatever this is,” he says with a smirk. “Now, do I have to reiterate the rules?”

“No sex in the bunker,” Felicity recites dutifully, but she keeps her face averted from John. Oliver smirks down at her and her blush intensifies, because he and Felicity have definitely had sex in the bunker.

Oliver loops an arm around her shoulders and eases her in closer. “Good night, John,” he says, then looks down at her. “I’ll go out for an hour or so, then we can get a late dinner?” he offers, leaving the dessert portion of the evening unspoken.

Felicity beams up at him. “Definitely.”

 

& & &

 

Felicity lingers somewhat awkwardly by the breakfast bar in Oliver’s home as he sees Raisa out and then checks on William, who’s already asleep in his bedroom. 

Oliver brought her back to his place with the promise of food and the unspoken promise of more, though now that she’s here, she’s feeling that buzz of uncertainty that's haunted her since they got back from Lian Yu. Because, really, should she be here while William’s asleep? Is she actually planning to have sex with Oliver while William is home? Is that creepy, or just a thing parents do?

Her pulse speeds up as her thoughts begin to spiral into anxiety and doubt. Her gaze flicks from the door to her purse to her shoes, abandoned near the breakfast bar, and she wonders if she should just go.

And then Oliver is beside her, stepping into her personal space. He slides an arm along her waist, pulling her into a sideways hug. Felicity turns into him, looping her arms around his torso and snuggling her face against his chest. She inhales slowly, savoring his familiar scent, and the comforting feel of his big body next to hers. His touch calms her nerves and inflames her desire at the same time.

When he leans back and asks, “Hungry?” she doesn’t answer with words. Instead, Felicity leans up and kisses him, softly, but with intent.

Because this thing between them, the love she feels for him -- it’s bigger than all of her insecurities. 

Oliver dips closer, his arms banding around her back to crush her against him, and then his hand drops to the back of her thigh and Felicity laughs, stepping back before he can lift her up. She grins at his bewildered face -- this is probably the first time she’s turned down sex-related carrying.

“Just -- let’s just walk,” she tells him quietly, tilting her head in the direction of William’s room. “So we don’t make a lot of noise,” she adds with an expectant look.

When his lips purse in irritation, she knows he’s remembering The Hurricane Candle Incident in Pismo Beach, when he’d lifted her up just like that first time in Nanda Parbat, only he’d walked right into a giant glass candle holder on the floor, knocking it over and chipping the glass badly. Thankfully, the candle wasn’t lit, so they didn’t actually burn anything down. She'd laughed and laughed, and he'd lightheartedly blamed her for taking up all of his focus.

Oliver releases her waist and reaches for her hand instead, leading her down the short hallway and into his luxuriously boring bedroom. He pauses to close the door and lock it with an exaggerated flick, then turns back to her with an eyebrow raised in challenge. Or invitation.

Or both.

Felicity’s body heats up, and she reaches for him, tugging at his shirt until he shrugs out of it. His chest glows warm in the dim light cast by the lamp on the nightstand, and Felicity can’t help but trace designs on the inviting expanse of warm skin. Then Oliver’s talented hands are on her, removing her clothing with a single-minded determination that leaves her breathless and naked.

She steps back, grinning as he half-stumbles trying to get his shoes, socks, and pants off at the same time. She’s still giggling when he comes for her, all strength and liquid grace.

She thinks he’s going to tackle her to the mattress, but instead Oliver lifts her off her feet and turns them both, easing onto the bed and settling her in his lap. The boring beige comforter is surprising warm and welcoming beneath her knees, and Felicity groans at the feel of his skin pressed against hers. Again. Finally.

“I missed you so much,” she murmurs, leaning down to nibble the stubble-covered line of his jaw.

His hand tightens on her ass, his erection pressed hot and hard between their bodies as he stills against her. “Felicity,” he breathes, tilting his head up to kiss her throat, and she’s reminded of a hundred other times he’s said her name like this, like a prayer.

Her hands smooth along the scarred skin of his body, soothing and caressing the exact way she knows he loves. She shifts atop him, reaching between them, watching his chest hitch when she palms him. 

“Please,” he whispers, his hands gripping her hips, urging her closer. “Felicity, please.”

“Yes,” she breathes, pushing against his shoulder with her free hand. Oliver shifts them both, his incredible strength and coordination on full display as he resettles across the middle of the bed, easing her down on top of him. It’s always been like this between them; he’s always followed her lead. She’s convinced that sometimes he gets more pleasure out of making her come than his own orgasms.

She leans down, her hair falling all around them as she kisses him sweetly.

Oliver’s big hands land on her thighs inch higher. Slowly, so slowly, until his thumbs tease her clit. She hisses, her mouth falling away from his. One hand slides around her hip, gripping her ass to hold her still while he works her clit with talented fingers.

Her eyes drift shut, her back arching, her focus narrowing down to the effortless way he touches her, the sensations he so easily brings forth.

“Felicity.”

She understands his plea and shifts above him, bracing herself with one hand by his shoulder so she can lean in and kiss him while she takes him inside. Oliver curls one hand around her hip and tangles the other in her hair, groaning into her mouth in desperation when he slides all the way in.  

He’s big, and it’s been quite a while, and she just needs a moment to relax into it, to savor this connection that she thought they’d never have again. They breathe against each other, his chest warm against hers, his sparse chest hair teasing her nipples. When she open her eyes, Oliver’s looking up at her with a suspicious sheen in his eyes.

Letting the hand in her hair ease forward until he’s cupping her chin, Oliver says, “I love you, Felicity. So much.” Before she can answer, he leans up and kisses her, his abdominal muscles hard and tight against her stomach.

It’s hard to smile and kiss him at the same time, but she does her best, and then she can’t keep herself from rocking on him, a slow, rolling movement of her hips so she can feel him deep inside. The big, warm hand on her hip tightens, and he lifts up into her, thrusting in counterpart to the easy tempo she’s established.

Felicity reaches for the hand on her face and tangles their fingers together near his ear. She’s leaning so, so close, her breasts dragging along his chest as she moves above him, their mouths meeting in slow, dirty kisses.

It’s slow and quiet and intense, their bodies moving in a familiar counterpoint, shifting and straining, sweat beading on their skin. She expected their reunion to be explosive -- hot and fast. But this? This is somehow better. She can’t tear her gaze from his, and he is watching her with the kind of intense devotion that sears her to her soul.

The last of the walls she’d built up between them after their breakup disintegrates into dust.

She smiles, and Oliver’s eyes widen in recognition, a slow, easy smile stealing across his face before he tilts his head up and kisses her. “I love you,” he breathes into her mouth.

Oliver’s fingers tighten on her hip and that delicious tension continues to build. Felicity nips at his chest, moaning into his skin to muffle the sound. He huffs a laugh and turns his face, pressing sloppy kisses against her temple.

Felicity can feel her orgasm approaching, and she pushes upright, moving faster, eyes drifting shut as she rides him. And then Oliver’s there, sitting up so his chest is pressed to hers as they writhe against each other, straining for that blissful release. Everything is him -- his hot skin against hers, his breath puffing against her throat, his familiar moans sounding in counterpoint to her own. It's not enough and it's too much.

Her fingers dig into his back and she braces herself, mouth falling open. Oliver pumps up into her, hitting her just right. His tongue is on her neck, and his fingers slip between their bodies, circling her clit until she goes rigid in his arms, waves of tingly bliss breaking over her. Her orgasm feels like it goes on forever, and she holds her breath, desperately swallowing her gasps and moans. Oliver grips her hips, holding her still while he thrusts up into her, chasing his own release.

When Oliver comes, he crushes Felicity to him, leaning forward, his face pressed so tightly against her she can feel his teeth against her breastbone. He groans, low and sexy, and her whole body throbs in reaction.

They’re both breathing hard, slumped against each other as they recover. Oliver’s hot breath ghosts across her chest when he leans back just enough to press apologetic kisses to her skin.

“I missed you,” Oliver breathes, catching his breath almost immediately, because his cardiovascular fitness is ridiculous. “I missed this. I missed you so much, Felicity.”

“I love you,” she tells him. And, yeah, she’s still panting a little when she wraps her arms and legs around him for a full body hug.

They stay just like that for several long minutes, naked and sated and cuddling.

Eventually, though, Oliver shifts, lifting her, rearranging them so they can lie on the bed side by side. He even somehow manages to get part of the comforter out from under her and pulls a sheet over her, because he knows she gets cold after sex. Her chest feels full of fizzy happiness, and she snuggles closer to him, to where she’s always wanted to be. 

Felicity traces nonsense patterns into his skin, wanting nothing more than to stay exactly where she is for hours and hours of restful sleep. But they haven’t had a conversation about her spending the night, or how to talk to William about it. “I should probably go,” she ventures quietly.

But Oliver shakes his head stubbornly and rolls half on top of her, anchoring her to the bed. She laughs, pressing her cheek against the crown of his head.

“Stay,” he says, and she figures it’s supposed to be an order but sounds more like a plea. He lifts up onto his elbow, shifting so that he can kiss her softly. “Please, stay,” he whispers against her mouth.

Felicity scratches her blunt nails up his spine until he shivers. “Okay,” she agrees, even if she’s a bit anxious about it.

Oliver beams down at her. “Okay,” he echoes, and kisses her again.

Then he tugs the covers up over them, and settles in against her. And for the first time in more than a year, Felicity drifts off to sleep in the loving arms of Oliver.

 

END EPISODE FOUR

  



	6. Commitments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Commitments" by MachaSWicket
> 
> Beta'd by Ilse - many thanks to Ilse for the detailed kindness. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSTING SCHEDULE NOTE: We're back! Look for four (four!) episodes per week.

****  


Oliver can’t quite make himself stop smiling as he beats eggs to make omelets. _Celebratory_ omelets, since his two favorite people in the world -- his son and his girlfriend -- are under the same roof. And like their Clayton-Smoak-Queen dinner with Donna a few days ago, maybe this is the official start of a family tradition.

Or the start of a _family_.

The thought makes him smile stupidly as he redoubles his efforts to make the best omelets his family has ever had. 

Felicity emerges first, looking sleepy and grumpy and all the things he missed so desperately the past year. Her hair is a lopsided tangle of waves, her face bare of makeup, and she’s wearing his old Starling Rockets t-shirt and a comically-too-big-on-her-slender-frame pair of his nylon athletic shorts. She shuffles straight to him, pressing her face against his chest and mumbling something that might be “good morning.”

Oliver beams down at her rumpled blonde hair. “Morning, sunshine.” He presses a kiss to her head. “C’mere,” he says, urging her to shift with him until they’re in front of the coffeemaker. “I got that Rwandan blend you like,” he tells her, keeping one arm around her as he snags a mug from the cabinet. 

Her small arms tighten briefly around his waist, then she tips her head back. “You really do love me,” she teases, then rolls up onto her tiptoes to kiss him properly. 

Oliver smiles into the kiss, flattening his palm against her spine to hold her close. She tastes minty, and he abandons the mug he got ready for her to wrap her completely in his arms. 

“Dad,” William calls as his bedroom door rumbles open on its strap hinges, “can we have-- Oh.” 

Felicity stiffens in Oliver’s arms, turning wide, panicky eyes up to him. He’s not entirely sure why she’s reacting as if they’re doing something wrong, so he smooths one hand down along her spine to reassure her. 

“Morning, bud,” Oliver says, straightening up, but keeping one arm around Felicity, who doesn’t seem capable of moving at the moment. He meets William’s curious gaze and tips his head toward the blonde in his arms. “Felicity’s here.” 

William seems torn between smirking and being grossed out by the implications of her staying the night. “Hey, Felicity,” he says, a little shyly. 

That, finally, startles Felicity into movement and she whirls to face William. “Hey, hi, good morning, William,” she says in that staccato cadence that warns Oliver that she may not be in complete control over what’s tumbling out of her mouth. “I am. Here,” she adds, waving an arm expansively. “Obviously. Because your dad and I--” 

“Are back together,” Oliver interrupts quickly. “Which I mentioned.” Leaving a supportive hand on Felicity’s shoulder, he turns back to the stove to pour more beaten eggs into the waiting pan. 

“Yeah. I remember.” William approaches the breakfast bar cautiously. “Omelets?” he observes. “Can I have peppers in mine?”

Oliver tilts a small prep bowl to show William the mixture of Gruyere cheese, bell peppers, and diced tomatoes.

William brightens a little. “Bacon?” he suggests hopefully. 

“Bacon is too salty,” Oliver answers, because they’ve had this discussion before. Several times. He’s gone so far as to offer William bacon on weekends, but Oliver tries very hard to keep William’s food intake healthy and nourishing. 

“Fine,” William mutters, slumping a bit and propping his chin in his hand.

There’s an awkward moment where no one seems sure what to say next. So Oliver gently urges Felicity towards the coffee. “The sugar is here,” he tells her, then moves back to the omelets, checking the consistency before adding the filling and folding the omelet over. He pulls the pan from the burner and slides the first omelet onto a plate. He replaces the pan and pours more of the egg mixture in before turning to William and placing his breakfast on the breakfast bar. “Eat up,” he says. “Do you want juice or milk?”

William glances at Felicity. “Can I have coffee?” Oliver gives his son a look and William relents. “Fine. Orange juice, please.” 

“Oliver,” Felicity says, and he turns to find her leaning against the cabinets, her mug of coffee held defensively in front of her chest. Her aquamarine fingernails tap an uneven rhythm against the ceramic. 

He tips his head in question. “Do you want juice, too? I’m making your omelet next.” Speaking of -- he moves back to the burner and checks its progress. 

“I should go,” Felicity says, the words coming fast. “Let you two get back to your morning routine.” She turns to William. “You have school today, and--”

“Felicity,” Oliver interrupts, reaching for her hand carefully. She’s skittish, which worries him a bit. But he knows her well enough to know the only thing that will settle her nerves right now is to offer her a simple option. “Have breakfast with William and me,” he requests. 

She looks nervously between him and William, her fingers tightening on his. “I don’t want to intrude,” she says. “You both have your whole--” She shrugs helplessly-- “ _thing_.” 

“I made enough for three omelets,” Oliver points out. “I want you here. _We_ ,” he says, looking to his son for agreement, “want you here.”

William nods, swallowing quickly. “It’s bad to waste food,” he points out. “You should eat with us, Felicity.” 

Felicity exhales, William’s words putting her at least a bit at ease. “Okay,” she answers slowly. 

Oliver steps closer to her, leaning down to steal a coffee-flavored kiss. “Okay,” he tells her. He takes hold of her hips and turns her towards the breakfast bar. “Go sit.”

She glances up at him, and he can _see_ the salacious remark forming -- she has _never_ taken orders from him particularly well, and once their relationship turned romantic, she delighted in bucking his instructions and daring him to react. But she reins it in and nods, circling the counter towards William. Then she stops short, setting her half-full coffee mug down with a thunk, and moves to the refrigerator instead. She pulls out the orange juice and heads back to the breakfast bar, pulling herself up onto the stool beside William. “Here you go,” she says, filling the empty juice glass near William’s plate. 

William mumbles “thank you” around a mouthful of food, and Felicity nods. She brings her coffee mug to her lips and smiles down into it, and just that brief interaction between the two of them is enough to make Oliver’s eyes water. He wants this every day; he wants them to be a family.

Blinking rapidly, he turns back to the stove to finish Felicity’s omelet.

 

& & &  

 

Oliver’s good mood carries him all the way into his City Hall office. He greets everyone he passes with genuine enthusiasm, and eventually settles behind his desk determined to advance his agenda in more concrete ways this week. He’ll get through the appropriations request for the parks department, he’ll make a final decision on the CBA issue, and he will definitely have a working lunch with Councilor Suruma on the sanctuary city proposal.   

And then Quentin and Rene enter with complementary irritable looks that foil his perfect plan of attack. Oliver stifles a sigh. “Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”

Quentin gives him a strange look. Rene just smirks, dropping into a visitor’s chair. “Dinah gave us the rundown on Wainwright.” 

Oliver doesn’t bother, today, to attempt to correct Rene’s lack of the honorific _Councilor_ , since it appears the councilor may be dabbling in some corruption. “Well, we don’t know very much yet,” he answers, intentionally vague. Felicity installed anti-bugging devices in his office nearly as soon as he’d been sworn in, but he still tries to keep Green Arrow business out of City Hall

“Exactly,” Quentin says. He leans forward and fixes Oliver with an irritable look. “And we can’t _officially_ learn more at this point, because this information was gathered through _unofficial channels_.”

Oliver sighs. The tension between how little information is available to him through official channels as mayor, versus the copious amounts of data Felicity can pull together for Team Arrow is a constant concern. He has to keep from revealing how much he actually knows, and more importantly, the criminal justice system has very specific rules about what information can be used against someone at trial, depending on how that information was gathered.

His life as the Green Arrow was much simpler when the post-arrest piece of the puzzle was someone else’s problems. Unfortunately, Star City’s long-standing issues with corruption and crime puts things like _conviction rate_ squarely on his plate as mayor. 

“Regardless, we need more information so we can understand the scope of the problem,” he says finally, “and how best to tackle it.”

Rene quirks a skeptical eyebrow. “You talk to Dinah about this yet?”

“Felicity’s checking in with her,” Oliver answers, glancing pointedly at the large, slightly crooked stack of folders on his desk. “I have a full morning, but I’ll try to talk to Councilor Wainwright about the CBA issue. I can bring up Patterson and the collapse, see if he’ll let anything slip.”

 

& & &

 

Dinah has just finished her briefing for the day and is heading to her office when she hears the familiar click of high heels on marble. Turning, she’s not surprised to see Felicity walking quickly towards her. Felicity is the picture of cheer in a fitted, brightly patterned dress that seems out of place in the rundown precinct. “Dinah, hi!” she greets.

Dinah smiles back, genuinely glad to see Felicity. Oliver is grumpy and occasionally difficult, Dig can be unreadable, but Felicity has been nothing but warm and welcoming since she orchestrated the expanded Team Arrow. “I didn’t know you were coming by,” Dinah says. “Everything okay?” 

“Just wanted to check in with you on that thing?” Felicity answers with a tilt of her head that sets her trademark ponytail swinging.

Nodding, Dinah gestures towards her office. “Let’s sit.” She hangs back to allow Felicity to enter first, then pulls the door closed. “What’s up?” she asks, leaning back against her desk.

“Patterson,” Felicity answers immediately, lifting her phone to show Dinah that she’s got her anti-bugging application up and running so they can speak freely. “And Wainwright.”

“I meant more specifically,” Dinah admits. “John brought me up to speed last night on their quid pro quo.”

“Right,” Felicity nods. “Okay, so I was thinking -- Oliver shouldn’t go after Wainwright directly, because it could be seen as dirty politics instead of a genuine corruption issue. But I know you have that pesky _fruit of a poisoned tree_ thing to worry about, so: I was wondering what I can do to help point you and your officers in the right direction.” And then Felicity folds her hands together and smiles up at Dinah brightly.

“Well, that’s--” Dinah shakes her head. “That’s a lovely offer, Felicity, but as I understand it, the only hint of any kind of quid pro quo between Wainwright and Patterson is the video that you,” she hesitates, all too aware of their surroundings even with Felicity’s anti-bugging tech, “ _accessed_.”

“Oh, yeah,” Felicity laughs, leaning back in her seat, “best and _most secure_ video-conferencing software on the market, pfffft.” She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Took me less than five minutes.” 

Dinah blinks. “Right.”

Felicity straightens, her expression serious. “I was looking into Patterson because of the collapse at the construction site for the new high school. I expected to find garden variety corner-cutting and maybe some hanky panky with the overtime, not possible corruption by city officials. I just need to know how investigations of corruption usually start.”

Dinah tips her head. “I’m not following.”

“Say you got an anonymous tip or a whistleblower,” Felicity elaborates. “What kind of information would the SCPD need to initiate an investigation into a high-ranking, long-serving politician?”

Crossing her ankles, Dinah leans back a bit, her fingers curling over the edge of her desk as she considers the question. “Someone like that will have great lawyers, _and_ a sophisticated understanding of police procedure,” she answers slowly. “We haven’t had an investigation like that since I’ve been here in Star City, but if I were reviewing my detective’s warrant application, I’d need solid information, corroborating evidence, and probably more than an anonymous source.”

Felicity’s brow furrows. “We send the SCPD anonymous intel all the time.”

“Sure,” Dinah agrees, “and it makes perfect sense if the intel is about a drug lord or a criminal enterprise. Witnesses to violent crime or organized crime are scared of violent retaliation, so it’s not surprising they’d want to remain anonymous for their own safety. But it’s hard to make that same argument for a witness to public corruption like this -- would a city councilor really put a hit out on a citizen for this kind of thing?”

Felicity shrugs, considering what Dinah’s saying. “I mean, probably not, but maybe? Ruve Dark was the mayor at one point, and I’m sure she would have cheerfully murdered people who opposed her,” she adds in a low mutter.

Dinah concedes the point with a shrug, but adds, “It would be easy for Wainwright’s lawyers to argue the reason the tip was anonymous is because it’s just a dirty political trick.” Felicity wrinkles her nose, but doesn’t argue, so Dinah continues, “A story like this would be heavily reported, and if it goes bad, we won’t get another shot at Wainwright.”

“Hmm,” Felicity says, her gaze shifting away from Dinah as she processes the ramifications. “That’s annoying, but it makes sense. So.” She claps her hands together. “We need to get a better handle on what, exactly, is going on with Patterson and Councilor Wainwright, so we can figure out how to get a less _leather-y_ investigation going.”

“Less leather-y?” Dinah echoes, amused. Felicity certainly has her very own way with words.

With a grin, Felicity pushes herself to her feet. “You know what I mean. And thanks. I’m gonna go--” She makes little typing motions with her hands-- “have some fun.”

“You do that.” Dinah’s still chuckling to herself as Felicity departs.

 

& & &

 

Felicity pulls up to Star City Preparatory Academy, a grandiose old building in the far northwest corner of the city, and puts her Fiat in park. Then she frowns, fishing her phone out of her bag. 

_Am I supposed to go inside?_ she texts Oliver, already very much regretting her offer to pick up William and entertain him for a couple hours. Not that she doesn’t want to spend time with William, it’s just that she’s still not entirely sure how to navigate the Oliver-and-William thing.

Oliver answers quickly. _He’ll come out. I texted him a description of your ridiculous car._

She huffs at his response. _This car is adorable. Don’t hate just because you’re too big for Mini Coopers and Fiat 500s._

_They’re the perfect size for you and William_ , Oliver texts back, and she _knows_ he’s grinning at his phone and calling them tiny while he does.

_Laugh now, but you’ll regret it when the three of us go to dinner and we make you squash yourself into the backseat_ , she retorts.

The soft knock on the passenger side window startles her so much she jumps, hand pressed to her chest. It’s William, one hand pressed against the glass as he watches her warily, no doubt confused by her outsized startle response. 

“William!” She unlocks the doors to let him in. “Hi, sorry.”

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat and dropping his backpack to the floor by his feet. Even as he grows, limbs gangly and lean, he has some of Oliver’s innate grace when he moves. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Oh, sure,” Felicity answers. “No problem.” She doesn’t like the way William seems to think she’s only there as a favor for his dad, but doesn’t really know how to have that conversation with him. Or even if she should.

“Your car is way cooler than Dad’s,” William says, glancing around the interior.

Felicity gives him a knowing look. “He called it a bright blue clown car in his text, didn’t he?”

William freezes. “Uh. He..."

She laughs, reaching over to tap William’s arm. “It’s okay. He’s made his feelings about Hedy quite clear.”

“Hedy?”

“Yes,” Felicity answers, tapping the multimedia display that says _HEDY_ . It used to say _FIAT500_ , but she customized her car on _multiple_ digital fronts as soon as she brought it home from the dealer.

William leans forward to examine the display. “Your car has a name?”

“Oh, yes. I personalized her,” she answers quickly. Off of his confused look, she elaborates. “Hedy’s operating system is just a computer, and one, I might add, with _terrible_ security when it rolls off the assembly line. It just makes good sense to customize it.”

William blinks. “You hacked your car?” he asks, sounding more confused than impressed.

“Hacking implies some sort of unauthorized entry,” she protests. “but this is my car, so it was, you know...” She shrugs. “ _Authorized_.”

“You hacked your car.” He grins at her, and his genuinely amused smile is such an echo of Oliver’s that it takes her breath away. “And you named it Hedy. Why?”

“Hedy Lamarr!” Felicity explains. “A brilliant inventor and the intellectual foremother of wifi.” She restrains herself from launching into a detailed explanation of spread spectrum and frequency hopping and adds, “Oh, and she was a famous actress in the 40s." 

Willam absorbs that information and nods slowly. “Okay.”

She grins at him. “Don’t forget your seat belt.”

“Right,” he answers, twisting around to pull the seat belt across his lap and secure it. “Where are we going? Dad just texted to say you’re picking me up. He didn’t say why.”

Felicity falters. “Uh.” She’d been about to put the car in drive, but instead turns a bit in her seat to face him. “I thought maybe we could hang out for a bit? Hit the the science museum?” she suggests, an anxious knot in her chest, because what if he’d rather go home and do homework by himself than spend time with her? “There’s a new exhibit on nanotechnology, and we’ve got a couple hours before your dad will be home from work.”

William shrugs. “Okay.”

Felicity studies him for some indication whether he hates the idea. Or loves it. Or has any real reaction to it at all, but he just stares placidly back at her. It’s not enthusiasm, but at least it’s not a flat refusal?

“Okay,” she answers finally, determined to ignore the anxiety fluttering in her chest. She faces front and puts the car in drive. “Okay,” she says again, and pulls away from the curb.

 

& & &

 

Dropping into her squeaky and semi-comfortable desk chair, Dinah scans the report one of her detectives handed her. An odd detail catches her attention. The uniforms busted a suspected street-level drug pusher, and when they brought him in for processing, they found a wad of cash and a walk-talkie. In all the complex searches Felicity has been running Ricardo Diaz’s mini-empire, he’s been frustratingly good at keeping his operation off the grid -- so good, in fact, that Felicity is convinced they’re not using cellphones or computers for communication. Could they be using walkie-talkies? Dinah hasn’t used a walkie-talkie since she first joined the force, and she’s not familiar with their capabilities. So she calls Dig.

“Dinah,” he answers, “what’s up?”

“Hoping to pick your brain about the possible logistics of the Dragon’s drug operation,” she says, keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard discussing police matters with a civilian. “Uniforms picked up a kid working the corner -- no drugs on him, but he’s holding nearly $700 in cash and a walkie-talkie.”

“Oh,” Dig says, and she can tell immediately that he’s making the same connections she did. “That’s a definite possibility. Walkie-talkies use a different frequency than cellular communications. Learned that in country when we got a scary crash course on IEDs.”

Dinah nods, even though he can’t see her, and waits patiently. She hasn’t known Dig that long, but she knows him well enough to recognize he’s still working through the possibility.

“Walkie-talkies have distance limitations,” he continues after a moment, “but Diaz’s crew could relay messages point to point if they needed to be farther apart than the range of their units. That kind of minor inconvenience could be worth staying off of more easily traceable digital communications.”

“Yeah,” Dinah agrees, “I was thinking that something like this could explain why Felicity hasn’t been able to find much on Diaz and his gang. The picked this kid up three blocks from where we last saw Diaz.”

“Probably worth it to pass it along to Felicity,” Dig says. “At the very least, it’ll give her another puzzle to solve, even it doesn’t get us closer to Diaz. She’s been frustrated.”

Dinah chuckles. “Tell me about it. She snapped at me the other day when I asked how it was going. Immediately apologized, of course, and explained her frustration at some length.” 

“Sounds about right,” Dig says, warm amusement in his tone. “Pass along the make and model of the walkie-talkie to her, too.” 

“Great, thanks Dig.” Dinah pauses, wondering if she should address the awkwardness between them since she pushed -- _gently_ \-- about his injury, but before she can decide, Diggle has already signed off. “Okay, then,” she murmurs, turning her attention back to the arrest report, already mentally composing her text to Felicity.

 

& & &

 

The museum gambit is failing, Felicity thinks as she watches William wander through the exhibit on nanotechnology.

She’d hoped they would have a chance to talk, maybe even to bond, since William’s intellectual interests align pretty well with hers. She’d thought she could win him over with cool facts about helping Ray with his supersuit, but William is quietly reading each placard and examining the exhibits, only occasionally glancing over at her to make sure she’s still nearby.

“Frak,” she mutters, glancing down at the crinkled paper map in her hand -- honestly, shouldn’t the _science museum_ have an app for visitors? Maybe she should create one, so they wouldn’t have to waste paper and use this _tiny font_ that she can barely read even with her glasses on.

“What’s wrong?” asks William, suddenly right at her elbow somehow.

“ _Just_ like your father,” she chirps, looking down at him.

William’s brow furrows. “Just like him how?” 

She can’t help but laugh at the questions. “You just silently--” She flails her hands in the air-- “ _appeared_ beside me. I’ve told your Dad I need to put a little bell on him so he doesn’t startle me.” 

The face William makes at that mental image has her chuckling a bit. But he quickly refocuses on her. “Do we need to leave?” he asks.

Puzzled, Felicity glances around, looking for what could have triggered that question. “No?” she answers, though it comes out as more of a question, so she repeats herself, “No. I mean, unless you want to leave?”

William shrugs. “You just looked worried,” he tells her. And, yes, that’s another thing he and Oliver appear to have in common -- the annoying ability to read her emotions even when she’s trying not to show them.

“Not worried,” she tells him, glancing around for the hallway that should lead them to the rock garden, because she’s pretty sure the map said it was over there. “I was hoping we could talk, but I realize the nanotechnology exhibit isn’t really the place for heart-to-hearts.”

At that, William’s body language shifts. He watches her warily, his shoulders a bit hunched. She recognizes the way he’s bracing himself for bad news, for another emotional hit, and the sight nearly breaks her heart.

“Nothing bad,” she reassures him quickly. “I just wanted to check in with you. You know, about me and your dad?”

“What about it?” he asks warily.

“I just--” Felicity stops short, glancing around at the milling crowds and imagining this conversation becoming Star City gossip. “Let’s just...” She waves him towards the hallway, and in a few seconds they’re emerging into the bright sunlight of the nearly deserted rock garden that takes up two-thirds of the museum courtyard. “This is nice,” she mutters, glancing around before refocusing on Oliver’s wary stepson. “William, I know it must be weird for you, me and your dad, and I just wanted to be sure that you were okay with us dating. And let you know you can ask me anything.”

To her amazement, William relaxes immediately. “Oh, that’s fine,” he answers. “Dad told me he loves you, and Aunt Thea said she wants you to be her sister-in-law, and I heard Mr. Diggle tell Dad he was being an idiot waiting to get back together with you, so--” William shrugs-- “I’m cool with it.”

Felicity files that information about John and Oliver away for later, and holds William’s gaze. “Are you sure? I know you’re still adjusting to life with your dad here in Star City, and the last thing I want to do is disturb that.”

William looks up at her with an utter lack of guile and says, “Dad seems happier with you.”

Her eyes water, and she swallows hard against the threatening tears -- the last thing she needs is to sob all over this kind boy. All she can manage in response is a strangled, vaguely affirmative hum.

“Maybe,” William continues, a thoughtful look on his face, “he’ll lighten up a little, now. He’s kind of gloomy sometimes.”

A surprised laugh escapes her, and Felicity cannot quite stop herself from leaning over to hug William. “Yeah, he is,” she agrees. William’s arms come around her tentatively, and she squeezes him just a bit tighter and then lets him go, not wanting to push. “But you and me,” she tells him, holding his gaze as she straightens up, “we’re gonna help him have more happy days than gloomy ones, right?”

William’s smiles at her, a true, happy smile, and Felicity swears her heart grows three sizes. “Right,” William agrees. Then he glances back the way they came. “Can we go back inside? I have a question about how the GreeneChip works.”

Felicity beams at him. “Definitely!” She loops her arm through his and turns them back towards the nanotechnology exhibit. “Remind me to tell you about my friend’s supersuit!”

 

& & &

 

With a sigh, Oliver leans back in his chair, running a hand over his face. It’s a rare moment of quiet in his office, the large doors muffling the noise of City Hall. He slowly spins the chair around, staring blankly out the windows while he takes stock of the past few days.

His personal life is going surprisingly well right now, but there’s quite a bit of confusion and complication here at work that he should be focusing on. The idea that Patterson and Wainwright have been conspiring together is more surprising to him than it should be. Corruption, after all, is nothing new to Star City. His own family was complicit for years, and his father’s list was almost entirely made up of one-percenters who’d abused the system in pursuit of money, power, or both.

Oliver has seen this before, but he’d thought they’d made progress. He’d thought his decision to step into the light, to take over the reins of the city government had helped root out corruption. It’s disheartening to be proven wrong.

And with the chirp of his phone, Oliver’s moment of introspection is over. All the warning Oliver gets of what’s coming is a quick text from Rene that says, _Game face - W’s coming up_.

Since Felicity just sent him a selfie with William at the science museum, Oliver realizes it must be Wainwright.

Quentin knocks quickly, pushing open the office door. Jaw clenched, he says, “Mr. Mayor, I have Councilor Wainwright to see you.”

Oliver represses his irritation and rises to his feet with a nod. He moves around the corner of his desk and greets the councilor with a wide, fake smile. “Councilor, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wainwright shakes Oliver’s hand with a too-tight grip, then steps back. He’s an older man, early fifties, greying at the temples, and wearing a well-tailored dark suit made with a bit too much fabric to be fashionable. “Mr. Mayor,” Wainwright answers with a fake smile of his own. “I thought we could have a conversation about this CBC that the special interest groups have been agitating for.” He pauses, glancing back at Quentin. “That is, if you have time for me.”

It’s not a question Oliver can answer in the negative, and all three men in the room know it. Starling City has a strong City Council, which constrains a frustrating amount of Oliver’s power as mayor, since he needs a majority of councilors on his side for large projects like the east Glades redevelopment.

So he grits his teeth and agrees with false cheer. Wainwright and Quentin settle in the visitor’s chairs, and Oliver takes his time making his way back to his side of the imposing desk. He pauses, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and sits, gesturing at the councilor to begin.

“Mr. Mayor,” Wainwright says, and from his tone of voice and slightly exaggerated expressions, it’s clear he’s spent years delivering soundbytes to news cameras, “I have grave concerns with the idea of opening up our redevelopment process to special interest bullying. We have a well-established, thoughtful process with plenty of public hearings. We already incorporate feedback from our citizens into negotiations with the developers. But what we simply cannot do--” He taps a finger on Oliver’s desk for emphasis-- “is put these developers into the untenable position of negotiating on two fronts for a single project.”

Oliver nods slowly, impressed despite himself that Councilor Wainwright packaged his position so reasonably. “I agree that the CBA process would introduce additional complexity,” he begins slowly, emphasizing the proper acronym slightly, since he’s _sure_ Wainwright used the wrong one on purpose. “But the city has limited tools at our disposal to negotiate redevelopment deals -- we can use zoning rules and affordable housing requirements to help shape the project, but we don’t have the authority to demand, for instance, that the developer pay living wages for this project, or hire at least 50% local workers for the build. CBAs between the developer and neighborhood residents _can_. CBAs can prohibit the use of subcontractors with safety or employment violations on their records that wouldn’t be barred by the city’s procurement rules.”

“Mr. Mayor,” Wainwright interjects, “that--”

“Please,” Oliver says, lifting a hand to stay the councilor’s objections, “let me finish. A coalition of citizens from the east Glades -- the actual neighborhood affected by this project -- can negotiate on issues that are important to them that we, as a city government, can’t. It’s not a perfect process, but I don’t want to dismiss it out of hand.”

Wainwright’s cheeks have started to flush, and he shifts in his seat. “The vote is scheduled for Wednesday,” he points out. “The environmental impact study is complete and it’s time to award the development contract. There’s simply no time for this.”

Oliver studies Wainwright’s face, looking for tells. He likes the idea of a CBA for the east Glades redevelopment, but he is also concerned about the timeline. Normally, he’d be looking for concession, for compromise, but today, he wants to push Wainwright a little, to see if he can learn anything. “Maybe we should make the time,” he says. “We _just_ had a major construction accident that could’ve been much worse had it happened during work hours.” Oliver learned the power of implication from his parents, and he pats a folder on his desk that contains several constituent letters complaining about the light rail system before adding, “I asked Quentin to pull together some information on Stan Patterson and StanCo Construction.”

That gives Wainwright pause. “Stan Patterson has been an important developer in Starling City for years,” he says, glancing down at the folder.

“That may be true,” Oliver concedes, “but it also seems like StanCo has had more than its share of infractions -- safety citations, cost overruns, and perhaps most troubling, allegations of wage theft.”

It’s clear that Councilor Wainwright wants to argue further, but he’s too good a politician to tie himself closely to an organization under scrutiny. So he simply pushes to his feet. “Well, Mr. Mayor, this has been an _enlightening_ conversation.” He pauses briefly. “A word of caution, if I may?”

Oliver leans back in his seat, adopting a pose of perfect ease. “Of course.”

Wainwright glances at Quentin, then holds Oliver’s gaze. “I don’t think attempting to delay the east Glades redevelopment project will go very well for you,” he says, with an unmistakable air of condescension. “Things are done a certain way in Starling City, and they’re done well. I’m confident most of my colleagues will agree that we don’t need to gum up the works at this late hour.”

Oliver lets himself smile, pushing upright to lean across the desk and offer his hand. “Thanks for stopping by, Councilor.”

There’s a lengthy pause before Wainwright takes Oliver’s hand for a brief shake. It’s clear from the set of his jaw that he’s not particularly pleased, but he leaves without another word.

“Well,” Oliver says to Quentin, dropping back into his seat, “that was interesting.”

“It was,” Quentin agrees with a tired nod, “but he didn’t say anything that gets us any closer to an official investigation.”

Oliver scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he admits. “You’re right.”

 

& & &

 

Felicity and William are still tossing jokes back and forth about the _total lameness_ of the lighthouse exhibit when they reach Oliver and William’s apartment. Felicity defers to William, letting him unlock the door and push his way inside.

“Dad!” William hollers, abandoning his backpack near the door. “We’re home!”

Felicity follows William a bit more slowly, closing the door behind her and hanging back to watch Oliver hug his son. She’s _always_ known how fiercely Oliver loves his family, but she will admit she’d had a hard time imagining the Oliver she first met -- the gruff, one-track-minded version of Oliver -- being so open and loving. But he’s a wonderful father. Seeing him this way, warm and supportive and devoted, it reminds her of how far he’s come, how much he’s healed since coming home from Lian Yu.

“Hey,” Oliver says, turning to her and holding out his hand, “what are you doing over there?”

“Right!” Felicity drops her bag on the small table near the door and moves to Oliver, leaning up to kiss him chastely. “Hi,” she says, feeling a bit out of her depth even after spending a fun couple of hours with William. She understands her relationship with Oliver, and she’s building what she hopes will be a good relationship with William, but she hasn’t quite figured out how to think about the three of them as a _unit_. Just the idea of it still feels somehow presumptuous to her.

“The museum?” Oliver prompts, looking between her and William, who’s just coming back out into the living area sans sneakers. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah, except the dumb lighthouse exhibit,” William answers, flopping onto the couch and reaching for the remote. “And Felicity’s car is awesome.”

Oliver sighs, but he’s smiling, the big faker. “You _would_ say that,” Oliver grumps, then turns to Felicity, lowering his voice. “He was good?”

“He,” William answers loudly, “is sitting right here.”

Oliver and Felicity exchange bemused glances, and Oliver says, “Just checking.”

Tugging on her hand, he leads Felicity into the kitchen as William turns on the gaming system. “Are you staying for dinner?” he asks, holding up a bottle of a Chateauneuf-du-Pape red wine she’s been wanting to try.

Torn, Felicity keeps her eyes on the wine as she answers, “That looks good, but I should probably give you guys some time to miss me.” Reluctantly, she meets Oliver’s eyes.

Oliver’s gaze sharpens in that way that lets her know he’s realized something’s bothering her. Which usually means he will _not_ let it go until he’s tried to fix it. “I missed you all day,” he tells her. When William makes a low gagging noise in the living room, Oliver laughs and adds, “Keep your commentary to yourself, kid.”

“Sure, Dad,” William answers in the dismissive tone of an almost-teenager.

Felicity raises her eyebrows at Oliver in question and he shrugs, looking exasperated but not surprised. “So,” he continues, tugging on her hand to urge her a little closer. “Stay?”

“Oliver,” she answers in a hushed voice, “you know I love spending time with you and with William, but I really don’t think I should be here _all_ the time. William needs his father, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

It’s clear from his baffled expression that Oliver has not considered the possibility of her presence being overwhelming. “Felicity--”

“Just,” she interjects, laying a hand on his chest to get his full attention, “let’s take things a little slowly, at least for now.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he admits, watching her with sad eyes.

And the thing is, she _knows_ that’s true -- he really doesn’t know how to do things halfway. Most of the reason he spent so long pushing her away that terrible year of maybes is because he has trouble with moderation. Oliver loves with his whole heart, and once he’s in, he’s _in_.

“I just don’t want to overwhelm the family you’re building with William,” she explains. “I was here this morning when William woke up, and considering our night jobs, you get so little time with him. I want to be a part of your lives, just,” she shrugs, “not all at once." 

“Oh.” Oliver nods a bit, looking crestfallen. “Okay.”

She slips closer, leaning into him a bit and holding his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.” She tips her head to the side, reconsidering. “Metaphorically, since I technically _will_ be going somewhere in a few minutes, but not long term. Just, you know, for the night. Or the evening, really, since I’ll see you later at the,” she lowers her voice, “ _place_.”

“Felicity, honey,” Oliver says, looping an arm around her shoulders and smiling down at her, “William has been in the bunker.” 

“Right. Sorry.” She tilts sideways and looks at the back of William’s head. “Sorry!” 

William waves off her apology, glancing over his shoulder at her with a small smile. “You owe me a rematch on Yooka-Laylee.”

“How about tomorrow night?” Felicity suggests. “I can come by for dinner and videogames.”

Oliver’s arm tightens around her, and he presses a kiss to her hair. “Yes, please,” he whispers.

“Okay,” William agrees easily. “I have a math quiz Friday, so I might need some help studying.”

“You got it, William,” Felicity answers, unable to curb the smile on her face. Because she really should give them some father-son time tonight, but maybe they can have semi-regular dinner nights as-- Well, not a _family_ , necessarily, but a group of people who care about each other.

Felicity can’t let herself think of Oliver and William as her _family_ yet, however much she might want to. But the idea doesn’t seem as impossible as it did a week ago.

 

& & &

 

Oliver’s reconnaissance of Stan Patterson’s house reassures him that there are no dogs lurking, waiting to bark up a storm if he enters. Patterson and his second wife live in an imposing, six-bedroom house in a gated community north of the city. It doesn’t escape Oliver’s notice that Patterson chose a home far away from the struggling neighborhoods in the city where his goliath construction company makes its money turning public housing and crumbling buildings into gleaming, high-tech, mixed-use buildings. 

The state-of-the-art alarm system is no challenge, disabled quickly with Felicity’s tech, and he slips inside, only to be confronted with a large, orange tabby cat, sitting five feet away and staring up at him with big, green eyes.

He halts, unsure what to do -- he’s never encountered a curious cat before, since he’s usually infiltrating office buildings and warehouses. But this cat is swishing its tail in displeasure, apparently determined not to move.

“Hi,” Oliver says softly. He feels stupid, but keeps talking in a soothing voice. “Good kitty. No need to worry about me.”

“ _There’s a cat?”_ Felicity asks over the comms, sounding delighted. “ _Is it friendly?_ ”

Oliver sighs. “It’s just staring at me.” Felicity “ _Awwwww!_ ”s in his ear, and Oliver flips the comms off. “Okay, kitty, I’m just going to...” He moves slowly past the cat, who keeps a close watch on his progress, eventually following him all the way upstairs and to the back corner of the house.

Pointedly ignoring the cat in the doorway of the home office, Oliver rifles through the materials he can find on StanCo projects, looking for anything of interest. He doesn’t find anything, and after twenty minutes or so, all there is to do is wait for Stan Patterson to get home. He settles into the chair tucked away in the corner and engages in an embarrassingly long staring contest with the orange tabby, who drifts closer and sits, curling its long, fluffy tail around its feet. Clearly, the cat is settling in. 

Oliver breathes evenly, passing the time with relaxation methods as he waits and eventually the cat loses interest and retreats, curling up under an end table. 

It’s nearly two hours before Patterson and his wife arrive home. Oliver grimaces in frustration and runs through his options -- he doesn’t want Stephanie Patterson involved, since Felicity has found nothing to suggest she’s involved with StanCo’s unsavory transactions. Silently, Oliver stands and moves to the door of the home office, listening to the couple as they go through their nightly routine.

Once the Pattersons have reached their bedroom, Oliver counts to forty and then tips over the wastebasket. It makes enough noise to draw the Pattersons’ attention without panicking them. Oliver listens to the low, indistinct voices in the bedroom and moves silently as footsteps approach the office. “Marbles?” asks a low voice. “What are you getting into?”

The cat -- Marbles, apparently -- darts out of the room. When Patterson steps into the home office, Oliver swiftly closes the door and raises his bow. “Quiet,” he warns.

Patterson’s eyes go wide as he stands in front of Oliver in wrinkled boxers and a white undershirt. “What do you want?” Patterson asks, his knees starting to shake.

“You have failed this city,” Oliver replies, relishing the way Patterson’s eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, no, please don’t kill me. I--”

“I’m not here to kill you,” Oliver interrupts harshly. “And be _quiet_.”

Patterson shrugs helplessly.

“What did Councilor Wainwright bring you into?” Oliver demands, purposefully using Wainwright’s phrasing to imply that he knows more than he does.

Some of the fear on Patterson’s face is replaced by confusion. “What?”

“Explain,” Oliver demands, low and harsh. “StanCo never won a city contract before six years ago; last year, your company won seven redevelopment deals. What is your quid pro quo?”

“We don’t-- There’s no-- I don’t know what you mean.” Patterson shifts back and forth, his gaze skittering around the room.

Oliver shifts his aim and fires an arrow into Patterson’s mahogany desk.

Patterson startles, his hands flying up beside his ears. “Please!”

Calmly, Oliver nocks another arrow. “ _Explain_.”

“There’s nothing to explain!” Patterson protests, hands flying up in the universal _don’t shoot_ position. But his words are too loud -- surely his wife heard, so Oliver starts his mental countdown clock. One menacing step closer, and Patterson breaks. “Wainwright makes sure we get the bid, and we just -- we have to use certain subcontractors, and do the job for ten percent less than our bid.”

Oliver hears Stephanie Patterson in the hallway, and he shifts around Patterson, closer to the open window. “Who gets the ten percent?” he demands.

Patterson shrugs, hands still aloft. “I just deposit it in the account for one of the subcontractors.”

“Which subcontractor?” Oliver is inches from the window as the doorknob turns.

“Virtuoso,” Patterson answers.

“Stan?” asks Stephanie.

Oliver is out the window and half way down the sloping roof as, inside, Patterson shouts to his wife, “Call 911!”

Oliver’s already in the yard, moving towards the fence when he presses the transmit button hidden in his suit. “Did you get that?”

“ _Already looking them up_ ,” Felicity answers cheerfully over the comms. “ _Maybe you should start carrying some treats_ ,” she muses, “ _you know, for any cats or dogs you come across when you’re out arrow-ing_.”

Vaulting over the wall, Oliver lets himself smile. “See you in a bit.”

“ _Ten-four, Green Arrow!_ ” Felicity chirps. Then adds to herself, more quietly, “ _I think that’s right?_ ”

 

& & &

 

Felicity hums a cheery little tune to herself as she sets the parameters for a search on Virtuoso Construction Ltd., a seemingly small, boring construction company headquartered in a small storefront in the far east Glades. She clicks go, and turns to find John watching her with an amused grin. “What?” she asks. 

“Ten-four was right,” he tells her. “I can get you the whole ten code if you’d like.”

She brightens. “There’s more? There’s, like, _ten-nine_?”

He squints for a moment, clearly trying to recall the details, then nods. “That means _repeat_ , I’m pretty sure,” he answers.

Felicity rubs her hands together. “Oh, this will be fun!”

But before she can pepper John with ten code questions, he redirects. “So, you and Oliver?"

Felicity is thrown off, but she’s not sure why. She can feel the flush in her cheeks. “Yes. We’re giving it another shot,” she answers. “I promise, no more sex in the bunker.”

John closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “Felicity.”

She grins outright at the exasperation in his tone. “I mean it,” she promises, “we won’t do that anymore. Not,” she continues with a thoughtful frown, “that we did it _that_ often. It was mostly--”

“No,” John interrupts, holding up a hand to stay any further words from tumbling out of her mouth. “We’re not reliving that,” he tells her, waiting until she nods in agreement before continuing. “Oliver mentioned the change in your relationship to me, and I wanted to tell you what I told him.”

She feels a strange sort of wariness, even though she knows, logically, that John has been the biggest proponent of her and Oliver’s relationship since the beginning. She’s anxious anyway, waiting for him to speak.

John leans forward, elbows on his knees, and meets her bright blue eyes. “I’ve had a front row seat to your relationship for years now, and it seems to me that you’re both the best versions of yourselves when you’re together.” He pauses, smiling warmly at her. “So congratulations -- I’m happy for you both.”

Felicity gives him a watery smile and launches herself at him, her arms curling around his neck in an awkward, but warm hug. “Thank you, John.” He’s been _such_ a steadfast friend to her from the start, and his approval and support is a balm to her nerves. Things with Oliver are good, _so_ good, but she can’t deny she’s still adjusting, still working out how they can make their lives fit together.

John leans into the hug, patting her back gently. “You’re welcome.”

Eventually, Felicity pushes herself upright and resettles in her chair, a shy smile on her face. “I’m really happy for us, too,” she admits, straightening her glasses. She tries to keep the rest of it to herself -- her anxiety, her uncertainty -- but, predictably, the words start to tumble out. “I’m just trying to keep everything as simple as possible, you know, since William is still adjusting to everything.” She leans back in her seat, but can’t keep her fingers from pulling at and smoothing her skirt.

“Mmmhmm,” John agrees. “And how are you adjusting?”

Felicity purses her lips and stares at him, puzzled. “Me?”

“To parenting,” he clarifies.

“Oh, I’m not a parent,” Felicity objects quickly, her voice oddly high. “No,” she adds. “Uh-uh. Nope.”

John watches her for a moment. “If you and Oliver are in this for keeps,” John says slowly, “then William is your kid, too. Or will be soon enough.”

Felicity goes utterly still, eyes wide and unblinking as his words ricochet around in her brain. She’s been so focused on not pushing, on being unobtrusive with William and Oliver, that she hadn’t let herself follow her reunification with Oliver to its logical conclusion. She’ll be William’s _step-mother_.

Finally, Felicity gives a jerky nod. “It’s kind of scary,” she admits in a rush. “I love Oliver and I love William, I just... I have _no idea_ how to be someone’s parent!” 

“You know,” John says, “I heard that very same thing from Oliver not too long ago. And I know you remember how overwhelmed I was when JJ arrived.”

Felicity grins at the memory, her nose wrinkling a bit in delight. “I definitely remember that. It was adorable.”

“And completely normal,” John says. “Parenthood is a sea change in your life. And kids don’t come with instructions.”

“There should be instructions,” Felicity objects, the words coming fast and furious. “I’m _good_ with instructions. And _improving_ on instructions.”

Chuckling, John leans closer and pats Felicity’s knee. “Being a little intimidated by all of this is normal,” he tells her, waiting until she meets his gaze and nods to continue. “I would be worried if you _weren’t_ worried about how to be a parent. But you’re one of the most genuine people I know, and you’re going to be really good for William.”

“You think so?” she asks, her voice weirdly low and quiet.

“I know so,” John tells her.

Before Felicity can answer, the alert sounds, letting her know that one of her searches turned up something. But it’s not the one she expected. “Oh.” She glances over at John and starts to smile. “Guess whose lair we just found?” she asks, then frowns. “Wait -- do dragons have lairs?”

 

& & &

 

While Oliver and Felicity argue over the comms about whether to call in the rest of the team or let Oliver handle Diaz himself, John works very hard to focus on the positive. They’ve been looking for Diaz for months, and they finally have an opportunity to take him down.

Never mind that John became one of the Dragon’s customers months ago. It was supposed to be temporary, a way to speed up the healing process. John was only going to use the drugs to help with the shakes until his nerves and fine motor skills recovered. Because he’d never believed the doctors who’d told him the damage was permanent.

But a month after Lian Yu, his improvement slowed, leaving him with a tremor and an inability to precisely aim his weapon. So he’d starting using -- just a little, just enough to get back in the field. Except that the healing in his nerves just… _stopped_. And if his abilities are as good as they’re ever going to be again, the drug is the only way he’s found to be able to do the things he needs to do.

John’s been struggling ever since -- hiding things from the team, and worse, lying to his wife.

All of that is too much to deal with right now, so he stands and hooks a thumb towards the locker room. “I’ll suit up and meet Oliver there.” Because no matter the cost to him personally, he needs to do the right thing here. He’ll handle any fallout when he needs to.

Felicity smiles her thanks, and cheerfully keeps on arguing with Oliver.

When John reaches the old trainyard, he finds Oliver leaning against an empty train car. “Seems like a high-level meeting,” he tells John. “There are only a few guards, and Diaz is in that--” He points to a quaint, long-abandoned old train station-- “building right there with three other guys.”

John’s hand is already shaking, and he doesn’t know whether it’s an emotional response to the idea of his secret being exposed or just that goddamn irreparable nerve damage. He nods anyway. “Reasonable odds. Take out the guards first?”

“Quietly,” Oliver agrees, brandishing his bow.

John falls in, flanking Oliver to the left as they approach. Quickly as ever, Oliver nocks and fires three trick arrows with spring loaded tethers that wrap up the guards, pinning their arms to their sides. Oliver follows with a knockout-drug arrow for each guard before they can sound the alarm.

Oliver glances over and makes eye contact with John. They’ve been brothers in arms for long enough for John to read the play call accurately, though while he chooses the simple expedient of kicking in the door, Oliver smashes through the large glass window, rolling and coming up in the corner. Because he loves a dramatic entrance.

Everyone but Diaz panics at their abrupt intrusion; Diaz looks mildly amused. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he says, his low, growling voice almost comically villainous.

Of the three other men in the room, two turn and bolt for the back entrance and John fires, hitting one and missing the other. The first collapses, while the second disappears down a short hallway. “Dammit,” John curses, shifting his uneven grip on the gun.

Oliver holds a drawn arrow on Diaz, who’s got his hands on his hips and a suspicious bulge under his jacket just behind his right hand. John refocuses on the other man left standing; he’s surprisingly young, with long, unruly hair scraped back into a ponytail and wearing a dirty-looking denim jacket. Denim Jacket has a gun, and he’s pointing it back and forth between John and Oliver, eyes wide and a little panicky.

John knows he needs to take the shot -- Oliver has Diaz for the moment, so John needs to take care of Denim Jacket. But he just... he doesn’t trust himself. He keeps thinking about what will happen if he misses. He’s already missed once tonight, and his gun feels unreasonably heavy in his hand. He brings his left hand up to cradle the butt of the gun, steadying his aim, but the longer he holds a firing stance, the more his bad arm starts to protest.

He’s _definitely_ gonna miss.

Denim Jacket is amped up on adrenaline and firing live ammo, so if John fucks it up, there could be fatal consequences.

_He can’t take the shot_.

Over the comms, Felicity says, “ _Escaped Baddie Number One is pulling the getaway car around. And when I say car, I mean giant SUV-that’s-probably-armored. It’s a very practical getaway car. Sitrep?_ ” she requests, and the tension in her voice lets John know there are no usable cameras allowing her to follow the action firsthand.

John glances at Oliver, who seems to have been waiting for that signal to move. John’s still unable to fire, so Oliver quickly shifts his aim to Denim Jacket and sends an arrow through his shoulder, pinning the man to the wall where he shouts in pain, gun dropped and forgotten on the floor.

But Diaz took the opportunity to bolt, drawing his weapon and firing wildly back at them.

John and Oliver duck behind the old wooden benches, and then Oliver is off after Diaz, leaping over the benches and hurtling through the hallway towards the back entrance. John pauses just long enough to punch Denim Jacket, to shut up his pained yelling, then hauls ass after Oliver.

When John bursts out into the trainyard, Oliver and Diaz are locked together in a struggle, Oliver trying to bodily prevent Diaz from getting into the SUV.

“You think you can take me!” Diaz shouts, somewhat maniacally. “This is my city!”

But Diaz doesn’t seem to be much of a fighter, since his swings are wild. He is, however, large and cornered. He’s also still got a gun in the hand that Oliver has pinned to the roof of the SUV. It shouldn’t be close, but it is, and when Diaz manages to whirl and slam Oliver into the hood of the car, John rushes to join the fray.

The getaway driver makes eye contact with John and immediately cuts his losses. When he floors it, the open door bangs against Diaz and Oliver, sending them tumbling to the ground in a pile.

John automatically shifts into a firing stance, but the two bullets he ricochet harmlessly off the right edge of the bumper. “Dammit.”

He turns back around to see Diaz half on top of Oliver, and holsters his gun, barreling over to the fight. Before he reaches them, Oliver has recovered, shouldering his way free, slamming the steel handle of his bow into Diaz’s temple, and reaching back for a knockout arrow for good measure.

John knows when Diaz loses unconscious, because he _finally_ stops talking. Oliver rolls to his feet and fires a trick arrow at Diaz’s form, leaving him wrapped up in cables much like his guards. Still breathing hard, Oliver presses his hand to the relay button inside his jacket. “Overwatch, tell the SCPD we have something for them.” Then he turns to John, his half smile fading into a faint look of confusion. “John? You okay?”

He’s _not_ okay, and the dirtbag supplying him with the drug he’s been using to mask it is headed to jail for a very long time.

John knows this is his opportunity to come clean, to tell Oliver about the injury, the drugs, all of it. But the words lodge in his throat, his chest burning with shame. He presses his bad hand hard against his thigh and inhales deeply. “All good,” he says instead. The lie churns like acid in his gut. “Let’s head back.”

John turns away, more determined than ever to fix himself. On his own. Once he’s figured out how he can ease the nerve damage and stay field ready, he can explain everything to Oliver and Felicity and the team. Soon.

He’ll them soon.

 

& & &

 

By the time Oliver has showered and changed, Diggle is gone and Felicity is in her customary position -- rolling her chair between several high-resolution monitors, multitasking her computer magic. He pauses to watch her, letting himself feel the full scope of his happiness.

“And _what_ ,” Felicity says, typing furiously, “do you think about _that_ , huh, Mr. Jerkface?” Oliver can’t quite contain a chuckle, and she startles, whipping her head around. “Not you,” she clarifies quickly. “You’re not Mr. Jerkface. Obviously. I wouldn’t be dating you if in my head I called you Mr. Jerkface.”

Oliver feels the quiet around them, the soft quality that reminds him it’s nearly midnight, and he offers her his hand. “Come up to the roof with me?”

Felicity points at the monitors. “I’m updating the search criteria for Virtuoso Construction,” she protests, even as she takes his hand and stands from her chair.

“Take a break,” he suggests, willing her to agree.

Her eyes narrow. “On the roof? With you?” She’s trying not to smile, but she’s never been able to hide her happiness -- especially when it came to anything about their relationship. Her ability to feel joy so purely is one of the first things that attracted him to her. “That doesn’t qualify as _in_ the bunker, right?”

Oliver laughs as she brushes past him, giving him a saucy look and then pulling him along. He lets his gaze travel appreciatively along her form as she leads him to the elevators, feeling that familiar grateful relief that they’re back to building something together. Once they’re in the elevator and it’s heading up, he drifts closer, crowding her until she’s grinning up at him with one eyebrow arched in challenge.

She’s irresistible, and he closes the distance between them, snaking his arms around her waist and lowering his mouth to hers. They make out for the entirely-too-short elevator ride up to the roof.

When the elevator dings its arrival, Felicity laughs against his lips, then slips from his embrace. Felicity steps out onto the roof, throwing him an impatient look that makes him laugh quietly to himself as he joins her.

She holds out her hand, and he takes it, following her as she moves to the small grouping of deck furniture near the western wall. In the daylight, the bright orange cushions are incongruous against the industrial greyscale of the rest of the rooftop, but Felicity had insisted she needed an option to get _some_ vitamin D and daylight during those months that she was spending most of her waking hours in the bunker.

It’s still mostly Felicity’s space up here on the roof, though he’s joined her a couple times. The building is only eight stories, nothing like the old QC tower, but at night, the stars still feel a little bit closer and brighter up here than they do at street level.

Felicity pulls him down onto the loveseat beside her, shifting around a bit to adjust the orange pillows to her satisfaction.

“Can I ask you a question?” Oliver asks softly.

Her ponytail sways as she tilts her head at him. “Of course,” she says, even as her fingers tighten around his.

Oliver adjusts, half-turning to face her, bringing one knee up onto the small loveseat and covering their joined hands with his free hand. “Are you,” he hesitates a bit, unsure exactly how to get her talking, “comfortable with William?”

“What?” She leans back slightly, eyes wide. “Of course. William is a _great_ kid.”

He ignores the swell of pride he feels whenever anyone mentions just how amazing William is, because that’s not what he’s concerned about at the moment. “I know you and I have been here before,” he explains, lifting a hand to gesture between them. “I think we both know why we fell apart last time, and how to make sure that we -- that _I_ ,” he corrects with a rueful smile, “don’t make the same mistakes.”

Felicity’s watching him warily now. “Right,” she agrees.

Oliver takes a breath. “But I’m still learning how to be a father, and--” He stops short when she begins to nod too quickly, her gaze sliding away from his as her expression crumples. “Hey, hey, Felicity, what--?” 

“It’s okay,” she says, and Oliver is gutted when he realizes what she thinks he’s trying to say; what he’s said to her more than once before.

“Felicity, _no_ , I’m not-- I love you and I want this -- you and me. Right now. Forever.” He shifts closer to her, reaching for her chin to urge her to look at him. “I just --” He makes himself pause and take a steadying breath. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me and William, with the _parenting_ part that comes with me these days.”

Her grip on his hand tightens painfully. “Oh.” She studies him for a long moment, and then the words come out in a rush. “I don’t know what I’m doing with William,” she confesses. “I remember these _guys_ that my mother used to date. I remember resenting them, and feeling ignored, and, Oliver, I can’t do that to William. I can’t get in the way of your relationship.”

“You could never be in the way,” Oliver protests, honestly baffled how she could ever come to that conclusion. “I just want us to be a family,” he adds quietly, almost shyly, because he’s never been very good at voicing his deepest feelings.

Felicity shifts closer, her thigh pressing against his knee. “I don’t know how to fit in,” she whispers, her voice shaky with emotion. “I love you, Oliver, and I love William already. I just,” she shrugs, “I don’t know how to parent -- _stepparent_ ,” she corrects quickly, “though not even really that.”

“Yes, really _that_ ,” Oliver argues. “I want you to be my partner in all aspects of my life, Felicity,” he says, and, suddenly his pulse is racing and his breath comes in quick, nervous gulps. Because this feels like a proposal, even though it isn’t. Even though he _wants_ it to be. He wants to marry her, unequivocally, but he knows she’s not ready for that yet. “I want you and me and William to be a family. _You_ , Felicity Smoak, are the kindest and smartest person I know, and while no one can replace Samantha in his world, I am one-hundred percent sure that William’s life will be better with you in it."

Even in the dimness of the ambient light, he can see the emotions play across her face. She’s scared but hopeful, too. And because she’s Felicity and she’s always been braver than him when it comes to her heart, she blows out a nervous breath and says, “I want us to be a family, too, I’m just so worried that I’ll mess up what you and William have built.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. “Of the two of us, I’m _far_ more likely to mess up what William and I have started to figure out,” he points out, “but I think all three of us will be better together.”

She leans in, winding her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Oliver savors the feel of her in his arms, rocking her a bit until he can feel her start to relax against him. “Speaking of together,” he murmurs against her hair, “come home with me.”

She laughs against his neck and he shivers. “I would love to.”

“I missed sleeping with you,” he confesses. “I missed sharing your bed.”

Felicity loosens her hold on him and leans back just enough to meet his gaze. “Then let’s go home and go to bed,” she says, affection and lust twined together in her voice.

He knows it’s not quite _their_ home or _their_ bed -- not yet -- but tonight feels like a step toward the shared life he wants. Another step towards them becoming a family.

 

& & &

 

It’s such a good scam that Felicity almost misses it. 

She spends the next afternoon _mostly_ working on the encryption software for Smoak Technologies, with some searches running on Virtuoso Construction, and on all of the subcontractors she finds listed in StanCo’s books for good measure. Apparently, constructing large buildings takes a _lot_ of contractors.

And because she’s learned to distrust the honesty of many large companies since becoming the research arm of Team Arrow, Felicity runs full financial checks on all the subcontractors paid by StanCo. That’s the only reason she catches the discrepancy -- and only _just_ catches it.

Because the thing is, Virtuoso Construction _is_ a real company. It’s just-- “There are two Virtuosos!” she announces, slipping through the elevator doors to the lair before they’re even open all the way.

Across the room, Oliver, John, Dinah, and Rene are sparring, so four distracted, sweaty faces turn her way in confusion.

“Virtuoso Construction!” she prompts, heading right for the computer dais, because she can explain what she turned up on her tablet, but sometimes it’s easier to show them. Oliver, at least, is an excellent visual learner. She wakes the special _Felicity’s Projects_ computer on the left that everyone _knows_ not to touch, and calls up the financial records. “See?”

The others move closer, a loose semicircle of sweaty, muscle-y vigilantes. John scans the screen. “Virtuoso’s a wallboard installation outfit?” he surmises.

“Yes, indeed!” Felicity chirps. “And their revenue is pretty low -- mostly mid-level home remodelings and some small refurbishment jobs on aging retail spots. Wallboard is a pretty specific skill, and the subcontractors that StanCo chooses are usually more...” She tips her head, “Jack-of-all-trades- _y_. But still -- all buildings need walls, right?”

Oliver’s brow furrows. “Right.”

“So _initially_ I figured the 10% that Stan Patterson wires to Virtuoso is just the cost of walls,” she continues. “I mean, what do I know about construction? But did you know that wallboard is, like, _super_ cheap?”

Rene looks amused. “Yes.”

“It’s like $1.50 per square foot!” Felicity gestures at the monitors. “That’s way cheaper than installing electrical circuits or plumbing.”

“If it’s not 10% of a given job,” John prompts, “then why is Virtuoso getting 10% of the municipal funding for StanCo jobs?”

“They’re not,” Felicity explains, turning back to the keyboard for a moment to call up the additional information. “I ran a full check on Virtuoso from public records, and separately I used StanCo’s A/P files to run down every subcontractor they pay, and the account they set up as Virtuoso Construction has a completely different account number. When I looked closer, the _real_ Virtuoso Construction Ltd. is a mom-and-pop shop out in far east Star City, and they’ve never actually worked with StanCo. This,” she says, gesturing at the screen, “is a totally different, totally _fake_ Virtuoso Construction.”

“And no one put this together?” Oliver asks.

“Big jobs like this,” Rene answers with a shrug, “the guys at the site don’t know every other contractor doing work, especially since it goes in waves. Infrastructure, rough build, wiring,” he ticks off. “And the back office types are just working off invoices.”

Felicity nods. “Right, as far as we know, there may only be one or two people aware of this scheme at all.”

“Well, we know Patterson knows,” Dinah says slowly. “And now we have evidence that he’s passing 10% of the municipal money he’s getting paid for construction jobs to an unknown third party.”

“Which,” Felicity agrees, “is why he was complaining about cost-cutting -- they’re doing the actual work for 10% less than they bid.”

Oliver is glowering by this point. “Do we know what this second Virtuoso Construction is a front for?”

“I thought Wainwright for sure,” Felicity answers. “But I don’t think that’s it. There’s a whole separate _campaign donations_ \--” She uses sarcastic quote marks to emphasize-- “thing between Patterson’s circle and Wainwright. This 10% is going somewhere else.” Before anyone can ask the obvious follow up, she clarifies, “It’s an account in the Caymans associated with Virtuoso Construction Ltd. that’s a subsidiary of the boring-ly named DRM, Inc. According to DRM’s incorporation papers, it’s a holding company focused on construction, but I don’t see any other subsidiaries, and the ownership information seems to have been lost.”

“Lost?” Rene scoffs. “More like someone’s covering up tax fraud.”

Felicity nods. “The Caymans are a tax haven. Anyway, I haven’t been able to trace the Caymans account, Virtuoso, _or_ DRM back to any particular person -- all I have right now is a user ID number for the person or organization that’s getting this 10% kickback.”

Oliver straightens, that rigid sense of purpose settling over him as he nods once. “Either Wainwright or Patterson can tell me,” he says. “And I think it needs to be Wainwright.”

Felicity shifts closer to him, taking his hand in hers. “You’re not worried about the politics?”

“Not at the moment,” he answers. “We don’t have a good way to get this to official channels, right?” He glances to Dinah for her reluctant nod of agreement. “And I’ve already tried Patterson. He’s scared enough that he hasn’t told Wainwright about the Green Arrow’s visit -- I think he would’ve told me more if he knew.”

Oliver glances at John, then back to Felicity. She squeezes his hand. “So Wainwright?”

 

& & &

 

The team confronts Councilor Wainwright on Bartlett Street. Somewhat poetically, Team Arrow ends up stopping Wainwright’s car directly in front of the East Glades high school construction site -- the site of the infrastructure collapse the week before. Oliver smirks, knowing Felicity orchestrated it for both the relative seclusion of this block _and_ the karmic retribution.

Wild Dog, Black Canary, and Mr. Terrific fan out in front of the Councilor’s towncar, forcing it a stop, while Oliver and Diggle open the back doors and train their sights -- and their weapons -- on Wainwright.

He’s pale in the dimly lit interior, hands up and shaking as his head swivels back and forth. “What do you want?” he demands loudly, almost covering his fear with anger.

Oliver inches closer, arrow nocked and aimed, but he wraps his fingers tightly around the bowstring to keep it ostentatiously drawn. His hold is incompatible with firing, but it looks threatening. “Explain your scam,” he demands. “Do you control the Caymans account for the fake Virtuoso Construction?" 

Wainwright’s eyes go wide, and his mouth drops open.

“Answer me,” Oliver demands, low and angry. “You have one opportunity to confess your corruption. Councilor. I won’t ask you a second time.”

“That’s not-- I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wainwright says, throwing a fearful glance towards Diggle when he audibly scoffs.

Over the comms, Felicity says, “ _Frak, incoming SCPD units. The driver must have a panic button._ ”

Dinah answers Felicity, and Oliver tunes out their exchange on how to divert or delay the backup officers en route. Instead, he props a foot on the doorframe of Wainwright’s car and brings the bow closer so that the arrow is partially inside the car. Wainwright shrinks back against his seat, naked fear on his face.

“You set up the scheme,” Oliver growls through the modulator. “Patterson pays Virtuoso 10%. Where is that money going?”

Wainwright takes a breath, and when he answers, it’s clear he’s channeling his fear into anger. “The Caymans. Isn’t that what you said?”

Oliver can hear the sirens approaching, and he and Diggle exchange a glance over the roof of the councilor’s car. Their time is running out, and Wainwright is stalling. Oliver shifts his grip, re-aims the bow, and lets an arrow slice past Wainwright and bury itself in the leather beside his shoulder, slicing his skin and pinning the seam of his suit in place. Wainwright hisses, his focus on the arrow shaft.

“Where is the money going?” Oliver repeats, louder and angrier.

Flashing blue and red hits Oliver’s peripheral vision, and he hears Wild Dog and Black Canary report that they’re going to head off the threat, while Mr. Terrific reminds Wainwright’s driver not to move.

But Oliver knows that their time is basically up. Wainwright knows it, too -- he lifts his chin and says, “There are forces at work greater than a street-level bully like you can comprehend.”

Oliver pounds his fist on the roof of the car as it starts to move. He could shoot out the tires, or send and explosive arrow into the tailpipe to disable the car, but what good would that do? There are a dozen SCPD cops pouring out of cruisers, and as unfruitful as the confrontation with Wainwright seems, at least they know there’s something bigger than the Wainwright-Patterson deal at play here.

“Dammit,” Oliver says, stepping back as Wainwright’s sedan speeds away, both back doors still flapping open as it careens away into the night.

 

& & &

 

By the time the team makes it back to the bunker, Felicity is in the zone. She’s setting up sophisticated, individualized search parameters related to Wainwright, Patterson, Virtuoso, DRM, and the Cayman’s bank account, which requires her best, most Sherlock Holmes-y logical deductions. So, basically, she misses the post-mortem on what happened with Wainwright and the SCPD backup forces. She barely notices when Dinah and Rene leave, or even when Curtis asks Oliver and John to spar with him. The bare minimum of _other people are here but do not need attention_ registers vaguely with the 2% of her brain not currently focused on her searches.

Felicity submerges herself into her work until Dinah reappears, grim-faced and holding a small evidence bag.

“I don’t have much time,” Dinah announces, striding directly to the conference table.

“That’s never a good opening,” Felicity mutters, following after Dinah and reaching the conference table just a few moments before John, Curtis, and Oliver. Oliver is sweaty and shirtless, which is at least a little distracting to her, but his expression turns to stone when he sees what Dinah’s holding.

“Stan Patterson is dead,” Dinah says, pauses for them to react with surprise and disbelief. “He was murdered sometime earlier today in his office at StanCo.”

Reflexively, Felicity glances over at her computers, wondering if the feed from the StanCo conferencing system capture anything on video or audio.

“How was he killed?” Oliver asks in that dead, emotionless tone that sets Felicity’s teeth on edge.

“Gunshot to the back of the head, another through his lung,” Dinah answers.

Execution style, Felicity surmises with a wince. That’s not great. “ _Why_ was he killed?” she asks.

“This,” Dinah says, carefully laying the evidence bag on the table, “was found at the scene.”

Everyone but Oliver leans closer to get a look. Curtis places his palms on the table and brings his face within a foot or so of the-- “Throwing star?” Curtis breathes, righting himself abruptly. “Like, _Throwing Star Killer_ throwing star? Isn’t that Adrian Chase? Isn’t he _very_ dead?”

Felicity’s gaze shifts immediately to Oliver, only to find him staring back at her with a flat look on his face. She glances at John, who has his best neutral expression in place. “It’s not Adrian Chase,” she says. It doesn’t hurt to reiterate that conclusion, because she’d checked that first throwing star herself, and it is _not_ a Hood/Vigilante arrowhead mashup like the ones Adrian Chase had obsessively created. It’s a standard stainless steel honed carefully to the precise size and appearance of Adrian Chase’s stars, but it is just a replica.

Plus -- and this is important -- Oliver is _very clear_ on the fact that Adrian Chase is dead and buried at sea not far from Lian Yu. “It can’t be,” she adds for good measure.

“Okay,” Dinah says, arms crossed, though to her credit she sounds very accepting of Felicity’s declaration, “then why was this left at the crime scene?”

“It’s a warning,” Oliver answers, his voice low and little rough. He’s avoiding Felicity’s gaze now, and she knows he’s not planning to share the story of the _first_ throwing star with the rest of the team. Which they _will_ be discussing later. _Loudly_. Possibly with Dig, in a throwback, Original Team Arrow argument kind of way.

“A warning about _what_?” Dinah presses.

“And a warning _to whom_?” John adds. When Felicity looks over at her friend, it’s clear from the judge-y tilt of his eyebrow that he doesn’t agree with Oliver’s decision to keep the throwing star stuff from the rest of the team.

So, yeah, definitely a throwback throwdown.

She ignores the slight flush of heat in her cheeks and looks over to Dinah. “Maybe Patterson or his company was somehow involved with Prometheus?” she offers, but it sounds weak. “Adrian Chase was the DA -- maybe he was connected to this kickback scheme somehow.”

“Or maybe,” Oliver offers from his position slightly away from the rest of them, “Patterson’s involvement with the 10% kickback was a liability to whoever’s profiting, and this--” He tips his chin towards the throwing star on the conference room table-- “is just meant to throw us off the trail.”

John shifts beside Felicity. “Why are you so sure it’s a distraction?”

Oliver pins John with a look. “Because Adrian Chase is dead,” he answers flatly, and Felicity wonders what kind of discussions on this topic the two men have already had. “What else could it be?”

“I,” Felicity interjects, before the tension can escalate, “will run some searches and figure that out. I just need to take a couple,” she adds, more to herself than the others as she slips her phone from the pocket of her dress, “high resolution pictures...” Not that pictures will be able to confirm the key finding -- that this new throwing star, like the one sent to Oliver a few weeks back, is made of a very boring steel alloy instead of a complex mix of steel, aluminum, and carbon fiber with a telltale hint of _Rainforest Foliage_ green paint mixed in.

“Here,” Dinah offers, “let me.” She snaps a pair of purple latex gloves on, then maneuvers the star from the evidence bag and holds it under the light for Felicity to photograph.

When Felicity is done, Dinah drops the throwing star back into the evidence bag and seals it, pulling a pen from the interior pocket of her leather jacket so she can sign the sealing tape for chain-of-evidence reasons. Disregarding, of course, the part where she fished it out in a secret vigilante bunker.

“I’ll let you know if our techs find anything,” Dinah says, heading for the elevators. Curtis makes his excuses and jogs to catch up with her, leaving OTA around the conference table in silence.

“Are we gonna talk about why you’re keeping things from the rest of the ream,” John says slowly, his keen gaze shifting between Oliver and Felicity.

Felicity presses her lips together, because her instinctive need to defend Oliver’s good intentions is at war with her allegiance to John and the whole point of having constructed Team Arrow in the first place.

Oliver meets John’s incisive look evenly and shrugs. “Are you sure you want to make the argument that everything should be shared with the team, John?”

John’s expression clouds over, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he tilts his head towards the workout area. Oliver accepts the wordless offer with a brusque nod, and Felicity watches them walk away, a strange tension hanging in the silence between them.

“So they’re just gonna punch it out. Oooooo-kay,” she mutters with a disbelieving shake of her head. “Men are _so weird_.” Then she whirls on her heel and heads for the safe haven of her computers to perfect her searches.

 

& & &

 

Ollie making it a priority to have breakfast with his son every morning is something that even Thea finds too heartwarming to mock.

In fact, she appreciates Ollie’s attempts to be a better, more present father than Robert Queen had been so much that she supports it however she can. When school started, she volunteered for drop-off duty most school days, which gives her guaranteed one-on-one time with her nephew. Since then, she’s turned Wednesday mornings into official Queen Family Breakfast Day. This family time is important to Thea, since she’s got so little family left.

On Wednesdays, Thea tries to make it to Oliver’s early enough so she and Oliver can catch up over breakfast, and then pester William with questions when he eventually joins them. Apparently, being a preteen is _exhausting_ , and William is sleeping ten hours a night and eating a truly absurd amount of food to fuel his growth.

This morning, Thea and Oliver have already eaten, rinsed their plates and silverware, and Thea is nearly done her second cup of coffee by the time William trudges out of his room. He drops his mostly-zipped backpack on the floor, and hurls himself onto a stool at the breakfast bar, still seemingly half-asleep. “Morning,” he mumbles, reaching for the glass of orange juice his father has ready for him. 

“Definitely a growth spurt,” Oliver says.

Thea taps a fingernail on the bar top, and her nephew turns his head, a smile breaking out when he sees her. “Oh, hi, Aunt Thea!”

She leans over and hugs him hard. “Morning, kid,” she greets, then sits back up.

“Good morning, William,” Oliver says. He’s a bit jittery, and Thea gives him an amused look, because he’s being ridiculous. “Bud,” Oliver says to William, “can I ask you a question?”

Instantly wary, William puts his glass down with a thunk. “I guess.”

Oliver turns his gaze down to the bacon frying in the pan, shifting it around. “You like Felicity, right?” he asks.

Thea leans her elbow on the bartop, rests her chin in her hand, and settles in to watch.

William brightens. “Oh. Yeah, Felicity’s cool.” He leans forward, trying to see better. “You’re making bacon? I love bacon.”

“Bacon,” Thea agrees, “is the best.” She’d snagged the first two pieces before William made it out of his bedroom to join them for breakfast. Oliver gives her a look and she shrugs, unrepentant. “You’re the one always going on about how important protein is.”

Oliver uses tongs to shift the bacon from the frying pan onto a paper towel-lined plate to sop up some of the grease. “Eggs first,” he tells William, turning off the burners and reaching for the scrambled eggs. He piles them high on his son’s plate, then pulls a perfectly browned piece of wheat bread from the toaster and deposits it alongside William’s eggs.

William narrows his eyes, studying his father. “Is the bacon a bribe?” he asks, suspicious now.

“What? No,” Oliver deflects.

William is not buying it. He glances at Thea, but she just shrugs at him. “You _never_ make bacon,” William tells Oliver. “Raisa says you think it’s too salty and fatty.”

“It is too salty and fatty,” Oliver agrees. “But I don’t mind if you have it occasionally.”

William grins around a mouthful of eggs. “So, what’s the occasion?” he asks.

Thea snickers. Oliver’s going to have his hands _so very full_ with a kid as smart as William. And, yeah, she’s going to enjoy the hell out of watching Oliver try to deal with it.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Oliver reprimands. Then he sighs. “I know you’re still adjusting to this new life in Star City with me, and I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t care if Felicity stays over,” William tells him, then downs a third of his glass of juice. “I’m not a little kid. I understand stuff.”

Thea brings her coffee mug to her mouth to hide her smirk. Yeah, Oliver is _so_ screwed.

“I know you do,” Oliver answers quickly. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you about this -- I want you to have a say in our family decisions.”

At that, William goes still, watching Oliver suspiciously. “Are you gonna propose to her?”

Thea’s gaze whips over to Oliver, who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen looking utterly gobsmacked by his son’s question. “Yeah, Ollie,” she drawls, “are you gonna propose to Felicity?”

“Propose?” Oliver echoes, and Thea is certain she’s not imagining the note of longing in his voice. “No, I’m--  She’s probably not-- Not-- Not _right now_.”

Thea presses her lips together to hold in the excited squeal that’s threatening. It’s not really that surprising that Oliver is already all the way invested in his rekindled relationship with Felicity. No matter how hard he’d tried to persuade everyone after their breakup that it was really over, he’s never _stopped_ loving her and wanting to marry her. Thea couldn’t be more in favor of that eventuality, but he’s probably right that Felicity may not be ready for that large of a step.

_Yet_.

For his part, William gives his father a slightly withering look, and turns his attention back to his eggs. “Okay.”

Oliver stares at his son for a moment, brow furrowed. Then he turns to Thea, and the siblings have a wordless exchange -- he wants her help, but she’s not actually psychic, so she just tilts her head towards William and gives her brother a _look_. Because he still hasn’t managed to spit out the question he wanted to ask his son in the first place.

“Uh,” Oliver says, “I just want to make sure you were okay with this before I--” Oliver stops himself, shaking his head. He takes a breath and meets his son’s curious eyes. “I want to give Felicity a key. She won’t move in right away, but I would like her to spend more time here, with us.” He clears his throat. “Including staying over. Is that okay with you?”

William shrugs again, completely unfazed. “Yeah, like I said, Felicity’s cool.” He grins a little. “I might get that stupid B+ in math back up to an A.”

Thea nods. “She is _ridiculously_ smart about math.” She and her nephew grin at each other, while Oliver seems moderately frustrated that they’re joking around.

“Great,” Oliver says, turning back to the bacon cooling on the countertop. He grabs two pieces and puts them on his son’s plate. “Thanks, bud.”

William lights up at the sight of the bacon, his fork clattering to the table as he ignores the remnants of his eggs in favor of the salty, fatty treat.

“That bacon was _totally_ a bribe,” Thea observes, smirking at her brother when he turns a glare her way.

Thea finishes up her coffee at almost the same time as William scarfs down the rest of his food. She grabs his plate and her mug and heads to the sink, where Oliver is cleaning the cooking utensils.

William looks up and says, “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

Thea and Oliver both turn to William, who’s watching his father with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Don’t just give her a key,” William advises, sliding down from his seat at the breakfast bar. “Make it nice. Put it on a keychain with a little computer on it or something.”

Thea grins at William as he wanders off in search of his backpack. “Yeah, Ollie,” she teases, turning to her brother with a smirk. “Make it _nice_.”

 

& & &

 

In preparation for the City Council’s vote on the rezoning initiative and the CBA proposal, Oliver spends most of his morning on the phone. He talks to thirteen of the seventeen councilors, but has no luck getting Councilor Wainwright on the phone.

Oliver wants to talk about the CBA, but more importantly, he needs to get a read on how Wainwright is handling his run in with Team Arrow. According to Felicity’s increasing caps-locked texts, their convenient audio/video access via Stan Patterson’s video-conferencing software has disappeared because, she explained with a string of red-faced angry devil emojis, Wainwright deleted the software overnight.

It’s not until he’s sent an irritable Rene out to grab their lunches and is working through the various iterations of prepared remarks with Quentin that his assistant knocks sharply and announces Councilor Wainwright.

Oliver and Quentin exchange quick looks, and then Oliver is up, moving to meet the Wainwright by his desk and keep him away from the marked up speeches. Quentin stays in the seating area, tidying up the stray papers and giving Wainwright the illusion of privacy for his conversation with Oliver.

“Mr. Mayor, my apologies for arriving unannounced,” Councilor Wainwright says, unapologetically.

Oliver smiles that cool, polished smile that Felicity hates. “No apologies necessary. Please,” he gestures towards the visitor’s chair.

“I can’t stay long,” Wainwright demurs, holding his ground. “I just wanted to do you the courtesy of explaining why I cannot vote for the CBA proposal that you favor. I find,” he continues, all false sincerity, “that reaching out personally _before_ giving a public statement makes it easier to maintain productive working relationships.”

“Mmmm,” Oliver answers with a nod.

Wainwright glances at Quentin and lowers his voice. “I know you’re still learning how all of this--” He glances pointedly at the city seal behind Oliver’s desk-- “works, and I wouldn’t want to overstep, but, Mr. Mayor, the sooner you learn these kinds of lessons, the more effectively you’ll be able to work with the City Council.”

Oliver realizes he won’t be able to puncture Wainwright’s veneer of reasonableness over the City Council vote, so he switches tactics. Brow furrowed, he takes a half-step closer to Wainwright and studies him for an uncomfortably long moment. “Is everything okay?” Oliver asks.

Eyes narrowing in confusion, Wainwright answers, “Everything’s fine, why?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver tips his head a bit. “You look a little under the weather today.”

There it is -- Wainwright’s nostrils flare just a bit as he stiffens. He’s quite skilled at keeping his reactions under control, and Oliver might have missed the sudden tension if he hadn’t been looking for it in the first place.

Wainwright lifts a hand to his temple. “My allergies have been acting up,” he says. “But I’m just fine.” Frustratingly enough, he genuinely seems okay -- not rattled about his run in with Team Arrow last night, and laser focused on his political goals.

Huh.

Oliver can’t help but be a little offended that his confrontation with Wainwright barely left a mark. “Well,” he says with forced cheer, “thanks for coming by to let me know about your vote in person.” Oliver shifts closer, lifting his hand to give Wainwright a _friendly pat_ on his shoulder, right where a green arrow grazed him last night.

Wainwright winces, but plays it off by shifting back and offering his hand for Oliver to shake. “I hope you and I continue to have a productive relationship, Mr. Mayor.” Wainwright says. His grip on Oliver’s hand tightens, just a bit, and he adds, “There are forces at work here in Star City that you may not fully understand yet.”

Oliver pumps Wainwright’s hand once and steps back. “That may be true,” he answers, mulling over the intent of Wainwright’s -- warning? boast? -- as the councilor says goodbye to Quentin.

Unfortunately, Stan Patterson was the only other person they _knew_ was involved in the kickback scheme with the fake Virtuoso and the Cayman’s bank account, and now he’s dead. Oliver doubts that the recorded conversation between Patterson and Wainwright would be enough to justify an official investigation, unless they can unearth more about that Cayman’s bank account -- or whatever mysterious forces Wainwright is referring to.

All of which means that, Oliver is going to have to make nice with Councilor Wainwright in the meantime.

When Wainwright reaches the door, he glances back at Oliver. “Good luck with the vote, Mr. Mayor, and let the best man win.”

 

& & &

 

Waiting for Felicity, Thea sips her Assam tea at the bar, watching the TV over the bartender’s head. It’s muted, so she’s amusing herself by creating her own version of the news. _Wildfire consumes four acres in upstate Washington; all wildlife miraculously saved_. _Suspect arrested for attempted murder immediately and fully confesses, looks forward to contemplative time in jail to reflect on his actions._ _Stunt car crash leaves tangled mass of metal; no one injured._

Thea’s version is much less depressing than the real thing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Felicity arrives in a flutter of apologies and quick hugs. “I was having a stern word with my search algorithm, which _still_ hasn’t managed to unearth anything of use about--” She stops abruptly, glancing around the sparsely populated bar, then drops her voice, “ _t_ _he councilor_.”

Thea returns Felicity’s hug and then flags down the bartender to pay, since they’ve got a lunch reservation.

“No progress?” Thea asks, but when she turns back to her friend, she finds Felicity’s attention wholly focused on the TV screens above. Thea glances up and sees her brother, looking grim.

“Frak,” Felicity says, nose wrinkling in distaste as the TV cuts to Councilor Wainwright smiling broadly, surrounded by reporters and flanked by two other councilors. “They voted down Oliver’s rezoning proposal,” Felicity explains, turning back to Thea. “And the CBA, of course.”

Thea feels a familiar mix of anger and shame. “Dawn was really hoping they’d approve the CBA. Some of the staff of Hope House is worried that their neighborhood might be next for ‘ _redevelopment_ ,’ and they want to be able to protect themselves.”

Felicity straightens up. “Well, this is only one vote,” she points out with that irrepressible optimism. “We can start working on public perception now, so we’re ready the next time it comes up for a vote.” Her frown fades as she asks, “How is Dawn doing?

With a grin, Thea slips to her feet and loops her arm through Felicity’s. “Pretty good, actually. It’s pretty amazing what Hope House has built.”

Felicity nods in agreement, moving with Thea towards the maitre’d. “So you’re finding the work rewarding?”

“ _So_ rewarding,” Thea agrees, then gives the maitre’d her name. As they follow the maitre’d to their table by the window, Thea confides, “I’ve been working with Oliver, or at places Oliver created for so long, I was really worried about striking out on my own, but it turns out I learned a _lot_ about logistics and organization working at Verdant and City Hall.”

Settling into her seat, Felicity grins. “I’m so happy for you, Thea. If I can ever help, I’d be happy to.” 

“I’m _so_ glad you said that.” Thea snaps her menu shut and puts it down, folding her hands together and fixing Felicity with an expectant look. “I was hoping we could talk about any help you’d be willing to provide with computer upgrades and digital security.”

Felicity nods, a broad smile on her face. “I can provide _so much_ help with that,” she volunteers.

“Great!” Thea slides the wine list towards Felicity. “Pick your favorite wine and we can talk in more detail.”

 

& & &

 

Felicity arrives at Oliver’s place well after him. In fact, it’s nearly 10 p.m., and she stands awkwardly in the hallway debating whether to knock or text Oliver, because what if William’s asleep? And then the door opens and Raisa appears with a smile.

“Go on in, Miss Felicity,” she says, patting Felicity’s shoulder.

“Please, it’s just Felicity,” Felicity tries. Again.

Raisa serenely ignores the correction. “Mr. Oliver is putting William to bed. If you hurry, you can say good night.”

“Right,” Felicity says with a nod, only a bit anxious. “Thanks, Raisa. Have a great night!”

She waves goodbye to Raisa, then steps into Oliver’s apartment and pulls the door closed behind her. She hesitates for a moment, wondering whether to stash her oversized tote bag in Oliver’s room, or leave it here for now. She checks to make sure her PJs aren’t visible, then tucks the tote bag on the floor against the small occasional table that holds some ignored mail and Oliver’s keys.

Stepping out of her shoes, she listens for Oliver and William, and then moves towards the boy’s bedroom to say goodnight.

“Felicity,” Oliver greets her with a relieved smile. He moves over and leans down -- far down, since she is barefoot and he is absurdly tall -- to kiss her hello.

To her surprise, when Oliver steps back, William is right in front of her, and _how_ is he nearly as tall as she is?

Felicity feels a little less out of place, like maybe they’re figuring out their dynamic a bit when William hugs her in his affectionate, awkward way and says, “Good night, Felicity.”

She’s smiling as she hugs him back. “Good night, William.”

When he pulls away, Oliver gives an exasperated, “Don’t I get a hug?”

Felicity watches with a warm, content kind of affection as her boyfriend hugs his son, who’s still young enough to crave affection, yet old enough to be moody about it.

When William steps back, he looks at them expectantly.  

“Oh. Right.” Felicity grabs Oliver’s arm and pulls him towards the door. William nods and climbs into bed, wriggling around a bit before he seems to get comfortable. In the doorway, Felicity glances up at Oliver, who nudges her.

“Can you get the light, Felicity?” William asks.

There’s a warm, contented feeling in Felicity’s chest. “Of course,” she answers, and flips the switch. “Night, William.”

She and Oliver retreat quietly, pulling the door shut behind them. Oliver leads her to the couch and tugs her down beside him. He leans forward and gently lifts the glass of red wine that he apparently had waiting for her.

“Garnacha,” Oliver tells her, settling back in beside her and handing her the glass. “From northeast Spain.”

“Mmmm,” Felicity answers, sniffing the wine before taking an exploratory sip. The cherry and blackberry notes burst onto her tongue, and she swallows it with a smile. “I’ll definitely spend more time here if you keep plying me with good wine.”

Oliver brightens, shifting to face her a bit more. “That’s good to hear,” he tells her, then holds out his hand.

Felicity glances down and sees a shiny silver key attached to what appears to be a black and white pompom. Her breath catches. “Oliver...”

“It’s a key to the apartment,” Oliver tells her in that soft, earnest voice he uses when he’s trying to tell her how he feels. “For you.”

“For--?” She chokes up a bit, pressing her fingertips to her lips for a moment. “For me?”

He shifts his hand, letting the key and keychain dangle from his fingertips, and that’s when the fuzzy black and white shape resolves itself into a small, fluffy panda bear. “For you,” he repeats.

Felicity bites her lip, but there’s no way to contain her smile. “It’s a _panda_ ,” she breathes, accepting the gift. Oliver takes her wine glass so she can have a closer look at the cutest keychain she’s ever seen in her entire life. “I love it.”  

“I want you to spend as much time here as you want,” Oliver tells her. “I want you and William to spend time together. I want--” He stops for a moment. “I want everything with you,” he tells her.

And, yes, Felicity jumps him. She doesn’t even care that he’s holding her wine -- he’s athletic enough to get it onto a flat surface without spilling, even though he’s kissing her senseless. Her arms twine around his neck, and she shifts the keychain so it’s tight around her ring finger. She’s half in his lap, and he’s not complaining.

“I love you,” she breathes into his skin, nuzzling his stubble, kissing the line of his jaw.

Oliver shifts beneath her, laying back, pulling her down on top of him. They should move to the bedroom, and they will, but she just really needs to kiss him. A lot. Right now.

Halfway across the room, her tablet chirps in her bag.

Felicity shifts, dropping flat onto Oliver in wordless frustration. Because _of course_ her stupid search algorithms pick _right now_ to finally come up with something helpful.

“Felicity?” Oliver shifts, preparing to lift her off of him.

Which, actually, she should let him do, so she doesn’t accidentally knee him in her grumpiness.

“My searches founds something,” she announces as he steadies her in front of him. She leans down and kisses him one more time. An apology. Then she heads over to her tote bag, Oliver, a few steps behind her. Digging past her makeup bag, she locates and lifts her tablet, quickly navigating to the push alerts. “Oh,” she says, her curiosity most _definitely_ piqued. “A hit from the Caymans bank associated with Virtuoso. Or,” she adds absently as she accesses her systems to retrieve all the relevant information, “more accurately, a hit from the closest surveillance camera to the Caymans bank, which is three storefronts down, so there was a whole, complicated _thing_ about syncing up times of withdrawals to passersby...”

She trails off when the picture appears on her tablet.

“What?” Oliver asks, shifting closer. He’s standing with his chest against her shoulder, peering down at the screen. “That’s our guy?”

“Probably,” Felicity answers, sharpening the picture as best she can. Her search included facial recognition, but either the image is too low quality to produce any hits, or there’s no information on file for the man they’ve caught on surveillance footage.

On the screen is a man wearing a Caymans-appropriate casual button down shirt, lightweight khakis, and dark sunglasses. From what Felicity can tell, he’s probably handsome, maybe forty years old -- and a complete mystery to her.

“Okay,” Oliver says slowly, brow furrowed when she looks up to meet his gaze. “So who is he?”

Felicity shrugs one shoulder. “I have no idea.”

 

END EPISODE FIVE

  



	7. Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo ladies and gents! It's my first chapter for this re-write, and I'm very excited. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!  
> \-- ImUsuallyObsessed
> 
> Beta'd by: Janis (so_caffeinated)

E6: Thanksgiving

“...and that’s what this time of year is about. Remembering more brings us together than tears us apart. And when we stand together, united, we can accomplish more than we ever could’ve dreamt of apart. Happy Thanksgiving, Star City.”

The assembly claps, and Felicity swells with pride. Besides her, William stands supporting his dad. It’s amazing to have her family together, all within reach. The hybrid food drive and opening of the new SCPD precinct is turning into a rousing success, with enough food donations so far to feed hundreds of low-income families over the holiday.

Oliver answers a few questions from journalists before returning to them, dropping a kiss on Felicity’s lips. William pretends to gag. They ignore him.

“You did great, baby,” Felicity says, wrapping an arm around Oliver to rub his back. She lightly grips William’s shoulder, keeping him close when he would surely rather wander off to avoid PDA. But Felicity likes having her boys in arm’s reach, and who knows what kind of trouble a pre-teen boy could get into? Even at a wholesome fundraiser like this. Maybe especially at a wholesome fundraiser.

“Thanks, hon.” Oliver smiles at her like the sun comes out, marvelous and warm. He smiles more and more these days. She never gets over the way he looks at her.

“Mr. Queen, Ms. Smoak, Mr. Clayton. Sorry to bother you.”

A pleasant voice interrupts their moment, but the trio faces the newcomer with bright smiles. Being the mayor’s family has its obligations.

The interrupter is a man, probably in his mid-forties. He’s shockingly handsome, short black hair peppered with grey and intent blue eyes. His closed smile makes it seem like his full attention is rare, and makes someone feel grateful for receiving it. Felicity’s grin spreads to a more genuine width.

Oliver extends a hand. “It’s never a bother, Mr…?”

“McKnight.” The man clasps Oliver’s hand and they shake amicably. His charisma strikes Felicity again as his smile turns full-watt. She has a boyfriend—a wonderful boyfriend she’s 100 percent committed to—but not admiring this man would be like not admiring art. “Darren McKnight. But please, call me Darren, Mr. Mayor.”

“Darren,” Oliver agrees. They drop hands. “You have to call me Oliver, then.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Darren demurrs. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a successful fundraiser. I only wish my wife and children could be here to see how you’re turning this city around.”

Oliver’s brows draw together in concern. “I definitely can’t take all the credit. My support system in City Hall and public works are instrumental to our success. But, your family…?”

Felicity hums in sympathy, picking up where her boyfriend leaves off. “They’re no longer with us?”

Darren shakes his head, grief tugging the corners of his eyes. “They were killed by Damien Darhk’s Ghosts, I’m afraid.”

“I’m so sorry,” Felicity murmurs, wishing she could offer any better comfort. She still harbors guilt over the whole Damien Darhk saga, starting with staying away from the city for so long and ending with Havenrock and Rory. Maybe, if they’d returned sooner… She doesn’t need to look at Oliver to know he feels the same way.

Oliver nods. “Damien Darhk was a plague on this city. I’m sorry you were so deeply affected.”

Darren’s countenance brightens again, somewhat less sparkly than before. “Thank you, Ms. Smoak. Mr. Mayor. But what you’re doing now? What’s coming in the future? That’s more than enough to make up for what happened to my girls.”

Something about that sets off alarm bells. Darren sounds so casual but Felicity can’t imagine how he could be about the death of his family. She wants to say more, but just then a commotion erupts from the other side of the fundraiser. Darren McKnight slips into the crowd after a final nod.

Samanda Watson prowls toward the trio, an army of SCPD and FBI agents at her back.

Oliver jogs around the stage and puts on his best mayor smile. “Are you here to tour your new headquarters?”

“Turn around,” Samanda demands, a smug smile on her face.

Felicity has to lean closer to hear Oliver whisper, “Please, don’t do this here.”

But Samanda clearly thinks she has her mark. She won’t be stopped. “Oliver Queen, you’re under arrest,” she declares, loud enough for everyone assembled—including the press—to hear.

Lance appears through the crowd, finally reaching the scene. “On what charges?”

“Murder, assault, burglary, kidnapping… All stemming from your activity as the Green Arrow.”

Felicity can't watch as the FBI agents snap cuffs around Oliver's wrists, but she can hear it. And the flash of cameras from the press burn through her eyelids in spite of her attempt to shut them out. Felicity’s stomach turns to a boulder, stretching up her throat to choke her and rooting her to the ground.

“Dad?” William asks as the federal agents start to lead Oliver away. Felicity clutches William’s shoulders tighter, holding him back as much as stabilizing herself. Dread pricks her skin all the way down to her toes.

“It’s gonna be fine, buddy,” Oliver says. “I promise.”

Samanda reads Oliver’s Miranda rights as they lead him away, out of earshot. Felicity pulls William closer, watching as her husband is taken into federal custody.

“Don’t worry, William,” she says, as much for herself as for him. “Everything’s gonna be fine.” The echo of Oliver’s words hangs around them like dying vines.

“You promise?”

Felicity clenches her jaw. “I promise.” Whatever it takes, she’ll have Oliver home by Thanksgiving dinner. Or so help her, she’ll rain digital hell on Samanda Watson the likes of which no one has ever seen.

\---

“She can’t do this.”

“Honey—”

“I’ll get her off this case in no time. It’s so obvious she’s targeting you.”

“Hon—”

“It got Lance off your case all those years ago, Samanda Watson doesn’t stand a chance—”

“Felicity.”

She finally stops pacing up and down the holding room—which is actually a conference room in the newly-built FBI field office—and faces her boyfriend.

“I don’t want you to do anything—”

Felicity snorts. “Don’t ask me to sit on my hands and do nothing, because I won’t listen.”

In fact, it’s already too late. She is currently using a scrambler to render any recording devices in the holding room useless. She’d also slipped a little Trojan into the FBI servers earlier that morning when she was told she’d be allowed to see Oliver. All bets are off when the feds come for her man.

“Fel—”

“You’d do the same for me.”

She has him there, and he knows it.

“The biggest issue is your bail, but I’m really not worried about it,” Felicity muses, pacing again but much less frantically. She has an arm draped across her waist and the other elbow propped on it, holographic orange fingernails—a nod to the holiday—tapping her chin.

“It’s a five million dollars, hon—”

Felicity waves away his concern. She’s interrupting and while she normally hates doing that—having experience enough of it as a woman in STEM—things are moving quickly and she doesn’t have time to deal with Oliver’s inevitable objections. “I still own majority stock in Palmer Tech, Oliver. Money really isn’t an issue. And Thea—still almost a billionaire off Malcolm’s money—offered any type of help we need. Including financial.” Felicity hums, a stray thought catching her attention. “Do you think they would’ve set your bail so low if they knew that? What do Thea’s tax returns look like? Does she declare scary blood money from a dead man, or just keep it to herself?”

“Baby.”

“Sorry.”

“I…hadn’t even thought about that.”

“You have had a busy day, my love. It’ll take me a few days to liquidate enough assets and get everything together with Thea, but you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I’m a flight risk. There’s no way they’ll release me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a plan.”

\---

Thea spends the day after the arrest at Hope House. She stops herself a half a dozen times from marching down there, when the news of Oliver's arrest reaches her ears, but she doesn’t want to scare the employees or the women. Especially Dawn, who she’s cultivating a real friendship with.

The other woman can still tell something was wrong, though, as soon as Thea gets there bright and early the next day at 8 AM.

“I heard about your brother,” Dawn murmurs, leaning against the kitchen counter as Thea fixes herself a cup of coffee. She’s tried to stay away from the stuff lately. After healing from the wounds she’d gotten on Lian Yu, she’d finally started training again. Caffeine just bogged her down. But she needs the calming ritual today. Coffee reminds her of early morning at the mansion, her mom reading the paper while Raisa fixes them breakfast. In the years after Ollie and her dad were declared dead and before Walter became a permanent fixture in their lives, Thea had desperately clung to that small touchstone with her mother.

And Felicity said she didn’t need to see Oliver if it was too hard. She has a plan. And Thea knows better than to argue with Felicity on a mission.

Besides, she isn’t sure she could handle seeing her brother in prison. Felicity will do everything in her power to get him out, but it feels too final. Like losing him all over again.

Thea grips the mug hard in her shaking hands. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy,” she breaths. “Ollie, the Green Arrow? I think I’d know if my brother was running around at night in green leather. Felicity might have some objections, too.”

Dawn just hums noncommittally, sharp eyes intent on Thea’s face. She’d noticed recently how Dawn reacts whenever Team Arrow comes up in conversation. She doesn’t get shifty, necessarily, but there’s a new weight to her words. A spark of knowing in her eyes. Like she wasn’t in on the secret yet, but she knew there was more going on. It’s not enough for Thea to confirm if she knows anything, but it’s worth keeping an eye on. She might mention it to Felicity, but only when all this is over. Her future sister-in-law has enough on her plate.

“Yeah, but anyway… I should probably start setting up or something.” Today, Thea is holding a crash course in basic business to supplement the online classes some of the women are taking. She’s also decided to hold a seminar on how to design a resume. Running Verdant taught her more than school ever did, that’s for sure.

“Chin up,” Dawn says, wrapping Thea in a brief but fierce hug. “Everything will work out.”

Thea wishes she had that kind of faith.

\---

“Hey, bud… No, don’t—what’s that?”

William shifts in his seat beside Felicity in the town car. Felicity hasn’t been a mom for long, but the instincts appeared ferociously and full-formed. William is hiding something from her, and she needs to know what it is.

“It’s nothing. Hey, did I tell you my teacher thinks I might be able to start advanced algebra soon?”

Felicity shakes her head immediately. Despite immense pride in him for his math prowess, she won’t be sidetracked. “Nuh-uh, mister. Look at me.” She takes William’s chin in her hand and turns his face fully to her, getting a good look at the right side for the first time since he came into the car. “What the… Who hit you?!”

William protests the question in silence, shaking his head. But Felicity growls, "Don't say no one."

It would be easy to think, especially considering the arrest for being a vigilante, that Oliver is the scary parent. And he is, to an extent. But Felicity is the one the kids have to worry about. Her anger is quiet but inescapable and complete. She would entirely ruin whoever she set out to destroy, and nothing could stop her once she got started.

The memory of Oliver sends a painful pang through her chest. He’s still in jail. She hasn’t been able to bail him out yet without John, and the plan won’t be set into motion until tonight. But now isn’t the time to wallow. William needs her.

He tilts his chin out of her hands. “No one. Just…some ninth graders. They were fifteen. High schoolers.”

“Why did they hit you?” Felicity forces herself to stay in the moment. They’re just kids, not gang members taking on the Green Arrow. She shouldn’t do anything extreme. But she’s not above calling someone’s parents.

William glares at the floor. The expression is so much like Oliver’s, Felicity’s heart aches.

“Was it about your dad?”

His clenched jaw is all the answer she needs.

“Oh, sweetheart—”

“It was just… A bunch of stuff about how he’s going to prison for all the horrible shit he’s done.” William immediately cuts off and looks wide-eyed at Felicity, who only smiles ruefully at the cursing. Having grown up in Vegas, she’d said much worse things than that in middle school. And Felicity can tell he’s quoting the bullies, not saying it himself.

Besides, she has to be the relaxed one. Oliver is stressed enough for the both of them.

Felicity slides a hand over William’s shoulder, tangling her fingers in his hair to draw him to her. He allows the embrace, leaning in to her, which melts Felicity’s heart. She loves this boy more than she’d ever thought possible, and his pain hurts so much more than her own.

Without Felicity facing him, William seems more apt to make confessions. “There’s also… Well, I don’t know if you wanna know. It’s weird.”

Felicity gently brushes his hair with her fingers. Not quite a pet, but a comforting caress. “If something’s bothering you, I want to know. And I might as well take out stock in weird.”

“It’s just…” William leans away, staring hard out the window. Felicity curls her fingers in her lap, forcing herself to be patient. There’s a time to press and a time to wait, and she can sense—is this maternal intuition?—that William needs her to be patient with him. “People say things. About you. The older kids. And some of their…dads. And a few moms.”

Felicity is immediately a young, overqualified secretary—executive assistant, whatever—again. Familiar rage boils in her gut, and if she looks at her face, she’s sure it’d be red. “Are they still calling me a golddigger? After all this time? I was a very successful CEO, mostly, despite all the missed board meetings, and I’m starting my own company—”

“No, no.” William shakes his head, finally looking back to Felicity. He’s biting his lip and looks…embarrassed? “About how you’re really… Frack, sorry this is so awkward.” Felicity’s heart thrills at his use of her word, so it takes her a few moments to process his next rushed sentence. “They talk about how hot you are and how you should find someone better than dad since he’s a criminal.”

William says it all in one breath, but Felicity hears every word crystal clear.

“They… What? They said this to your face?”

Felicity can’t control what people think or say. As much as she might want to. But to say these things to Oliver’s son’s face when he’d just been arrested?

“I mean… Not technically. But they knew I could hear them. And I just…got mad. Everything kind of came out at once.”

“William.” Felicity brings out her no-nonsense voice. “Did you start this fight today?”

“No.”

Felicity believes him. William is, at his core, a very good kid. He wouldn’t pick a fight on purpose, but even if he did, he wouldn’t lie about it. “They started it. I just defended myself.”

“I can’t believe no one from the school called,” Felicity says, taking William’s hand in hers. “Rest assured, they’ll be getting a very stern phone call. And I love you, sweetheart, but you can’t go around defending my with your fists.”

William hangs his head but tightens his grip on her hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven, sweetheart.”

After several minutes of comfort, both over the events of the day and the more broad stress of Oliver in prison, Felicity muses, “You know, I could teach you how to incapacitate an attacker.”

William blinks. “... What?”

“I work with the Green Arrow. And I grew up in Vegas. You think I don’t know how to handle it when things get a little hot?”

It works—William smiles. “I guess I never thought about it. Okay, how do you incapacitate someone?”

“Well, first we have to indoctrinate you into the temple of Miss Congeniality. Then, you have to remember SING…”

\---

“Are you sure you’re up for this, John?” Felicity asks into the comm, keeping an eye on everything from her work station in the lair. She has to ask, because something’s up with him, and he isn’t telling anyone. He’s been off since Lian Yu. They all have, really, but him especially.

But he isn’t talking, and Felicity doesn’t have time to play team therapist. Her husband is going to be sent to a federal supermax if she doesn’t do something fast. And John agreed to appear as the Green Arrow, casting doubt on the case against Oliver. Jean Loring is doing some research to see if there’s any legal loophole they can jump through.

The evidence against Oliver is shaky at best. Circumstantial. A photo that’s already been disproved. Felicity’s interview (interrogation) with Samanda only solidified that Felicity can send this case toppling down. She just needs to put all the players on the board. Samanda is probably planning, too, but she’s never played chess with a four-time Las Vegas Chess Championship winner.

“I’m fine, Felicity,” John grunts. Felicity chooses to ignore the strain in his voice. “The crash course in archery helped. And the exploding arrows don’t require a bullseye.”

Which is exactly why Felicity stocked John’s quiver with the things. He doesn’t have to be precise, just dramatic and visible. Stop a few robberies, save a few cats stuck in trees. Then, hopefully Jean will have everything settled for the bail and Felicity and Thea will have enough assets liquidated to get Oliver out..

“If you say so. There’s a robbery on 7th and Mulberry…”

The evening goes as evenings in the lair usually do, with a whole lot of hurry-up-and-wait as a vigilante in green leather crisscrosses the city using her as his eyes to track down robbers and drug dealers alike. But Felicity feels the loss of Oliver’s presence keenly. William is at the apartment, spending a quiet evening alone on Xbox Live that won’t get him suspected of collusion. And he has a cellphone if he really needs her. He knows she’s doing everything she can to help Oliver, and had practically pushed her out the door earlier that evening.

He must’ve been chatting with his aunt, too, because even Thea sent her a quick text, “Don’t want to bother you, just wishing you happy trails! Money’s ready when you need it. Lmk if you need any more help.” and Felicity could’ve kissed her. She feels bad slightly neglecting the rest of her life, but her man needs her. Curtis can handle Smoak Tech for a few days.

Only one incident stands out. Felicity tracks a home invader on CCTV, John following her instructions seamlessly.

“Criminal is running down Brecht Street on foot. You should be able to catch him in no time.”

“I’m on foot too, Overwatch,” John gasped through the comms.

Under normal circumstances Felicity might panic, but when she was Overwatch, it felt like nothing was outside her control. “What do you mean?” She quickly found John on the CCTV cameras as well, not just the criminal, and saw him running full-speed down the street in Green Leather. “What happened to your motorcycle?”

“It wouldn’t start—!”

“Right, into the alley.”

“—I swear that thing only likes—”

“Green Arrow.” It’s unlike John to babble on the comms.

“I wasn’t gonna say it.”

“He went over the gate, Green Arrow.”

Felicity watched John get to the locked gate and scowl. The burglar was already over on the other side when John threw himself up and started climbing.

“Watch out, Green Arrow. He’s armed and waiting.”

The burglar took a gun out of his waistband, aimed it at John through the fence, and started shooting. Felicity clenched her jaw and muted her comms so none of her involuntary gasps or groans would distract John. She had to do it every time one of her vigilante’s got into a tight spot. Normally, she wouldn’t be worried about John. But something she couldn’t explain was worrying her, like an itch under her skin she couldn’t quite scratch.

John managed to avoid the bullets and launch from the top of the gate and land on the criminal, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Felicity gasps but John quickly rolls to one knee, drawing his bow and knocking an arrow.

But he doesn’t fire.

The criminal groans and tries to stagger to his feet, totally vulnerable and open. But John is frozen. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Felicity would swear John’s arms are shaking.

Felicity un-mutes her comm. “Green Arrow!”

John jerks at her sharp voice and the shot goes wide, burying into the alley wall. But that doesn't matter.

The explosives in the arrow do their work. Fire and sound rush through the alley, and Felicity’s hand instinctively flies to her headset at the loud noise. “Green Arrow!” she shouts, unable to see John on the camera.

Her fingers speed over the keys, already planning her anonymous call to the SCPD, when John coughs sharply and gasps. “Overwatch,” he groans.

“Frack, Green Arrow! Don’t do that to me again! What on earth happened?”

“In a minute. Have you called the SCPD?”

“Just sent the tip to Quentin. He’ll get it where it needs to go. But what was that in the alley? You had an open shot and—”

The sharp trilling of her phone catches her attention. Felicity looks at the screen and her heart thrills. She answers after a brief comment to John.

“I found something,” Jean Loring says without preamble. Felicity appreciates the expedience. “And with the Green Arrow showing up all over the city tonight, it might be enough to get Oliver out on bail.”

Felicity grins. “I love it when a plan comes together.”

\---

“I can’t believe it,” Oliver murmurs, eyes wide as he walks out of the FBI field office a free man. Well, a man on bail, which all things considered feels very much like a free man in comparison to Felicity. Reporters swarm, but he keeps one arm protectively around Felicity and the other around William. “I had no idea there was a precedent of release for single parents.”

Felicity beams, unable to take her eyes off Oliver’s face. “That’s why we pay Jean the big bucks, my love.”

Felicity might have done some unsavory things to get Oliver out of federal custody, but as she strides toward the car under his arm, she can’t help but beam. Oliver got out in time for Thanksgiving, just like she’d promised herself.

Reporters shout questions from beyond the tentative barrier of a few SCPD officers, but Felicity can’t even make out their words. They’re probably something unsavory or invasive, anyway.

The trio gets into the waiting limo—driven by John for old time’s sake—and immediately Oliver relaxes. Felicity hadn’t noticed outside, too distracted and buoyed by the joy of success, but he’d been as tense as a stretched resistance band.

Felicity interlocked her fingers with his, rubbing his skin softly, and he relaxes even more. “You alright?” she asks.

Oliver lets out a shaky breath and nods sharply, clutching her hand and resting his other one on William’s knee. Grounding himself. “It was just…hard. I wasn’t even in prison or anything but being locked up reminded me of…things.”

William gives Oliver a long-suffering look, but Felicity knows better. He’s not editing for the sake of his son. Being locked up, bombarded by questions, reminded him of the island. He’ll probably be on high alert, anxious and panicky, for weeks.

Felicity will explain it to William later. Now they’re happy, and she wants to embrace it.

As if the criminals of Star City could hear her, a sharp alert chirps through her phone.

“Is that the Kim Possible tone?” William asks, half-smiling at her.

“Yep,” Felicity pops, already scanning the alert. “Wait, how do you know that? It hasn’t been on TV in years.”

Williams shrugs and settles back in his seat. “I did a lot of research after I found out my dad was a vigilante.” He nudges Oliver with his shoulder, earning a slightly-strained but genuine smile.

“A television show is research?” John asks from the front seat. “I went into the wrong field.”

“Felicity,” Oliver prompts gently, always there to call her back. “The alert?”

“Right.” Felicity shakes the tangents away. “I had a few background alerts running. You know, my usual stuff. Combing for Black Siren, that mystery guy we’re trying to catch. Anyway, I got a hit on BS when I was working to get you out, but there wasn’t enough to go on. Now there is. Lair time tonight!”

“BS?” John asks, already grinning when he meets her eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Well,” Felicity grins. “She is full of shit.”

\---

As his father and Felicity discuss Green Arrow business, uncertainty skitters across William's skin. Nothing about his father's mission is safe, especially not these days, but he’s a smart kid. When Felicity had been trying to get his dad out of prison, William had seen the news. The reports on social media. Without the Green Arrow on the streets, criminals wreaked havoc like it was an open invitation. Black Siren is about as effective as a gnat at accomplishing whatever her goals are, but she’s causing enough trouble and diverting enough SCPD resources that smaller-time criminals are slipping by.

But he refuses to be left behind this time. Before, Felicity didn’t need any distractions as she tried to save his dad. Now, he demands a place in the lair, even if only to observe.

Digg, Felicity and his dad work together like a well-oiled machine. His dad’s girlfriend sits on her throne—the ergonomic rolling chair at the raised computer station—overseeing everything. Overwatch. He gets it. She brought another chair out of a closet somewhere for him. It’s not the comfiest seat in the world, but watching Felicity’s hands fly over the computer keys, eyes constantly tracking the screens, is dazzling. Like watching a master musician play.

Digg and his dad get ready on the far side of the lair, under Felicity’s ever-shifting eyes. She keeps lingering on Digg, and William knows that means she’s worried about him. But he seems fine, so William doesn’t understand why.

“Remind me what’s going on again,” William asks, trying to wrap his mind around the plan for the night.

Felicity sits up straight, eyes snapping back to William. “I have some crawlers constantly combing for chatter. I got a hit on the dark web about a user named Cuckoo looking for a team to steal an EMP tonight from a tech warehouse.” Felicity rolls her eyes. “You’d think Black Siren would be less obvious, but bless her, I guess we can’t expect much.”

William tilts his head, looking intently at the multitude of screens showing him the information. “How do you know it’s her?”

“Cuckoo birds lay their eggs in the nests of other birds. Their babies hatch and steal all the food and kill the others. And in Greek mythology, sirens could be women who bore the feet, wings and tails of a bird. Before they became pretty mermaids, I guess. And she’s absolutely crazy, which helps.”

“I actually knew that,” Oliver declares, pride in his voice. “About the sirens.”

Felicity shoots him a warm smile. “I’m proud of you, honey.” She leans over to William and dramatically whispers, “The Odyssey is the only thing he read in college.”

“Hey!” Oliver exclaims, but he’s grinning at his girlfriend and son. “I read plenty of…” He trails off, his cheeks tinting pink.

“Magazines,” Digg supplies, unable to suppress a mischievous smile. “Right, Oliver?”

Oliver nods vehemently while Felicity stifles a giggle behind her hand. Williams rolls his eyes. “I know what Playboy is, guys.”

“William Clayton!” Oliver exclaims, instantly back in dad-mode.

“What? I’m twelve. I don’t live under a rock.”

Oliver sputters some more, but he and Digg finish getting ready quickly. They both come up to the dais in what feels to William like a practiced routine, flanking him and Felicity on either side as they watch the screens with crossed arms.

“Alright, boys. Cuckoo Crazy has a mercenary team of four and they’re moving on the warehouse sometime tonight. I couldn’t get a solid lock on anything. I think they’re going almost full analog for this. But thankfully, there’s only one place in the city that has an EMP powerful enough to be worth stealing.”

“Palmer Tech,” Oliver supplies.

Felicity beams at him over her shoulder. “You do listen to me.”

Oliver drops a kiss to her head. William refrains from gagging, but shares a long-suffering look with Digg. “I always listen to you, Felicity.”

“Okay, lovebirds,” Digg says, removing his right hand from his crossed arms to flex his fingers several times. “What’s the mission, Overwatch?”

“Right, right.” Felicity swivels back to the screens. “It’s easy. Green Arrow and Spartan will arrive at Palmer Tech and stop Black Siren and her team from stealing the EMP.”

“Yeah,” Digg says, deadpan. “Easy.”

Felicity rolls her eyes and half-turns to Digg. “I’ll be in your ears the whole time, of course. You know I won’t let anything bad happen to my boys.” She pats his arm and sends him off the dais with a kiss to his cheek, leaving only her, William and Oliver. William stays seated, watching his dad and stepmom.

“Be careful out there, mister.” Felicity presses a finger into Oliver’s chest, but it’s gentle and her eyes are warm. “You just got out on bail and I need you to stay home. I promised myself you’d be home for Thanksgiving, so you’d better not make a liar of me.”

Oliver is pure putty under Felicity’s hands, his face all melty and sweet. William’s never seen two real-life adults look at each other like that. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Don’t deprive me of your Thanksgiving cooking,” William adds, trying not to let his voice tremble. He understands the work his dad does on the street is important, and doesn’t want to be the reason Oliver stays away and crime goes up. “Thea says you guys have a lot of fun traditions. You know, when…no one’s fighting or in jail.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in surprise, then he grins at William. “I promise, buddy. Everything will be fine.”

“Just promise you won’t try to make everything healthy,” Felicity insists. “None of these real green beans, please. I like my beans canned.”

“But they’re so much healthier—”

“Canned or nothing!”

William grins. “I like the canned cranberry sauce, too.”

“Me, too!”

Oliver actually groans. “You’re both killing me. And offending my culinary sensibilities.”

Felicity pecks him on the lips before returning to her throne—seat. “You boys stay safe out there!” she declares imperiously, smiling as they make their way to the underground garage. William is the only one who sees the white-knuckled fists clenched at her sides.

He takes her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. Felicity clasps their fingers together, hanging on like a lifeline. Watching the team leave isn’t easy for Felicity either, William realizes. She’s just had more experience.

So, he’ll be here for her. To help shoulder the worry. Because she shouldn’t have to do it alone.

\---

“John Thomas Diggle.”

Felicity can’t contain her rage. It isn’t productive or what John needs right now, but…

“You’ve had a hand tremor for months, you’ve gone out into the field without telling anyone, and put this entire team in danger!”

Oliver staggers into the lair with only John’s help, and Felicity is quick to shoulder the other half of his weight and lead her boyfriend to the med table. William follows close behind.

“William, go to that old box in the far corner and bring me some of those crusty-looking herbs. John, bring me a knee brace then start. Talking.”

“I’m fine,” Oliver tries to say through gritted teeth, every line of his body tense as he sits on the metal table. The fact that he’s even sitting on it without argument is a testament to how much his awkwardly-held right leg must hurt. He’d been hit in the knee. The same knee Roy busted under the influence of Mirakuru.

“I can’t believe you never got this properly looked at,” Felicity growls as she starts to slowly work the tight leather pants off. Thankfully, the new Green Arrow suit has cleverly hidden clasps and zips so they don’t pull on and off like regular pants. Felicity detaches the sides of the pant leg, opening the fabric to reveal Oliver’s angry red, swollen kneecap.

“It’s not broken,” Oliver declares, cowering only slightly when Felicity shoots him her best glare. She must be losing her touch.

“No, but your patella is obviously out of alignment. If you haven’t torn a ligament, I’ll be shocked.”

John and William return with her requests, John also wheeling over the portable x-ray machine. Once Felicity gets everything set up, sliding her hand into Oliver’s, she turns her glare to John.

“Explain. Now.”

And John does. He details his injuries on the island, how he couldn’t abandon the team and didn’t want to be sidelined despite the tremor in his dominant hand. So he’d turned to street drugs to numb the pain and ease the shakes.

“You put this whole team at risk,” Felicity says. “Because of your own selfish pride.”

“Felicity.”

Oliver’s voice makes her jerk, turning to face him. He doesn’t look angry, per say, but there’s something dark and thunderous in his eyes.

“Let me talk to him. Alone, please?”

That clues Felicity in. There are parts of what John’s going through that she’ll never be able to understand. Oliver maybe can’t either, but Felicity isn’t naive enough to think she knows everything that happened during his five years away. It’s not about trust. At a certain point, there are things that are still much too painful for him to talk about. Even with her.

“Okay. But if you put too much pressure on that leg, I’m…going to do something drastic.” Normally she’s more creative, but the night drained her. She feels like a rag wrung out too many times. “Come on, William. I’ll show you my secret snack drawer.”

Felicity doesn’t know what they talk about. She and William go to the far side of the lair and into the hybrid changing room/bathroom/storage space. The walls aren’t soundproofed entirely but Felicity can’t hear more than indistinct chatter, and that’s only if she listens very closely.

Like any intelligent person, Felicity keeps her snacks hidden from the high-metabolism’d vigilante team who would surely destroy her stash in a matter of days. The hidden fingerprint pad in the wall might’ve been overkill, but Felicity was serious about her snacks.

“Wow,” William marvels, eyes wide as he stares into the small compartment. “Is that a mini-fridge?”

“Yep.” Felicity nods. “I’ve got all the sugary drinks your dad says are going to kill me before I’m forty, plenty of salty or sweet snacks—”

“Are those matcha kit-kat bars?”

“I get them shipped from a friend in Japan.”

“Wow,” William says again, grinning. “No wonder dad likes you so much.”

While Felicity is honored her boyfriend’s son thinks she’s cool due to superior snacking prowess, she’s pretty sure that isn’t why Oliver likes her. But she lets William’s comment stand as they each take a seat and start chowing down.

They somehow manage to carry on a light conversation, trying to ignore the occasional shouts from outside. Felicity doesn’t listen, and distracts William whenever things get too loud. This isn’t her battle in which to be Overwatch. She has to hope for the best for her best friend and boyfriend.

After almost forty-five minutes, Oliver’s poked his head in with a weary small. “I think we’re done out here if…” His eyes narrow on the wrappers littered around them.

“Okay!” Felicity shoots to her feet and tucks her hidden snack compartment back into the wall before joining Oliver and William at the door. “How is…everything?”

Oliver sighs. “It’s rough but… He’s gone home to Lyla. Said I could even track him on the computers if I wanted. He’s angry but… I think it went as well as could be expected.”

“I need to apologize,” Felicity says, leaning into Oliver’s side. “I shouldn’t have called him selfish.”

Oliver shakes his head and leads the two of them into the main room of the lair, leaning heavily on Felicity to keep the weight off his leg. “I don’t think he’s ready to hear any of that right now. But this was a turning point, I think.”

Felicity helps Oliver back on to the med table just as her phone chirps with a message. “Lyla says John’s made it home,” she reads. “And she’ll let us know more details tomorrow.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, surrendering all the confused feelings of guilt, anger and sadness for the evening. There’s nothing she can do about them now. John’s in good hands, and Oliver is optimistic he’s on the road to recovery. “Did you let the x-ray machine finish?”

Oliver brandishes the finished scan and Felicity sticks out her tongue before snatching it from the air.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you go to the hospital. And it’s only because I know you’ll refuse. But you’re taking all the medicine I give you and wearing your brace as long as I say.”

Oliver wraps an arm around her and drops a kiss to her head. He lays a hand on William’s shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

\---

“Ollie!” Thea flies into the apartment and throws her arms around her brother, ignoring his flour-covered apron and burying her face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re out!”

He grins and hugs his sister tightly, balancing all their weight on his good leg. “Me too, Speedy. But I think I have Felicity and Jean to thank for that. And you, of course.”

“Money’s nothing, big brother.” Thea drops to the ground but stays in his radius. It feels good to be close to his family again after being in federal custody. “I’m just so happy we can do this.” She gestured to the apartment, and Oliver follows her hand and silently agrees.

Felicity is in the living room, schooling William in Nintendo 64 Mario Kart. It’s like an an acid trip mixed with a sugar high, she’d said. From the kaleidoscope of colors on the screen making his eyes ache and the occasional shriek from his girlfriend and son, he has to think she’s right. Then again, Felicity’s always right.

Raisa is on the other side of the kitchen, having dropped a quick kiss on Thea’s cheek when she disengaged from the hug before returning to her current masterpiece—the brown sugar topping for the sweet potato casserole. Oliver’s normally controlling in the kitchen, but sharing the space and responsibilities with Raisa is like sharing it with himself. Easy and natural as breathing.

It’s a small gathering, but it’s his. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

After another forty-five minutes of him and Raisa cooking, Felicity and William playing video games, and Thea bouncing between the two groups, Oliver announces, “Dinner’s ready, everyone!”

They mob the table like a pack of wolves and Oliver just smiles. He’s at the head with Felicity on his right and William on his left. Raisa sits at the other end despite her protests, proudly surveying the spread and the people surrounding it. Thea sits across from the only empty seat, and Oliver knows from experience her feet and propped atop it under the table.

The evening is perfect. Oliver thinks that his small taste of confinement makes freedom all the sweeter. William is a delight, his black eye fading quickly. Oliver’s blood had boiled when he first heard the story of what happened after he was released, but quickly channeled that into resuming William’s self-defense training.

Felicity is a little more quiet, but his arrest was hard on her. Thea, Digg and William filled Oliver in that she’d barely rest at all in the three days he’d been in jail. He wants to take care of her now that he can, even if it’s just making her the most extravagant Thanksgiving dinner he can with little prep time and holding her hand while they eat.

The group talks late into the night, and William is allowed to stay up since the school is on holiday break. But eventually he folds, stumbling off to bed after accepting the smothering affection of the adults. Thea leaves shortly after, and Raisa as well, whispering something into Felicity’s ears that had his girlfriend turning beet red.

“What did Raisa say?” Oliver asks as they clean in companionable silence. Felicity always tries to tell him he cooks so he doesn’t have to clean, but Oliver likes to spend the time with her. Even if they are just washing dishes.

Somehow, Felicity blushes even brighter. “Oh, nothing,” she tries to say lightly, but it comes out more strained.

Oliver sidles close, putting down the drying rag so he can stand behind his girlfriend and slide his hands under her shirt to rest on the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. “Oh, really?” he asks against her neck, purposefully pressing his chin and jaw into the delicate flesh there to set her giggling from the stubble. She tries to wiggle away, but Oliver easily holds her hips in place.

“Mercy, mercy!” Felicity tries not to squeal in case they wake William, but she’s having a hard time. Oliver turns the tickle to kisses, lips and tongue lingering on her throat. Felicity sighs, finally putting down the wet dish in her hands to lean against him. “She said we should have fun. But it was the tone more than anything. Embarrassing.”

Oliver nips Felicity’s ear, drawing her even closer when she jumps. “Naughty girl.”

“It’s not me,” she insists, turning to wrap an arm around Oliver’s neck. He settles under her hands, even more at the hazy love in her eyes. And more than enough lust to settle Oliver’s Felicity craving. At least, for a little while.

Oliver dips to wrap his hands around her thighs, and Felicity goes on her toes but latches on to his shoulders when he would’ve hoisted her on to the counter. “If you try to lift me and hurt your knee,” she whispers throatily into his ear. The sexy husk of her voice mixed with the threat are…doing things to him. “I’m instating a sex ban.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he murmurs, but slides his hands up to settle on the flare of her hips as he straightens.

Felicity goes up on her toes and replaces all his thoughts with white noise with a scorching kiss. “Watch me.”

Oliver pulls her closer and takes his time, licking into Felicity’s mouth and reveling in the moment, the heat, the love.

“Not out here,” Felicity murmurs, sliding out of his arms to lead him slowly—in deference to his braced knee—into the bedroom. “Now lay down, mister. No hard work for you with that knee.”

“Yes ma’am,” he breathes, complying with her request and laying flat on their unmade bed. The bedroom is dark and warm, just a floor lamp by the door to cast soft light. It’s a soft, hazy cave, where Oliver can finally relax after the arrest, Black Siren, Digg’s revelations, and dinner. He’s been experiencing hypervigilance and anxiety again since Felicity got him out, and he can only really relax alone with his family.

Felicity straddles his hips, keeping her weight suspended. The fire that ignited in him when they started kissing in the kitchen burns even hotter, trying to pull his body closer to hers. But she’d told him to be still, and he knows better than to disobey.

Clever fingers skim down his shirt, popping buttons as easily as she masters to dark web. Felicity isn’t normally the most agile, and Oliver considers himself the luckiest man alive to witness her moments of true grace.

Felicity goes slow, but within moments his shirt is hanging open, scars and all on display for her pleasure. Oliver doesn’t even feel a twinge of self-consciousness around his girlfriend anymore. Girlfriend, girlfriend… That’s starting not to sound right. Fiancée has a much better—

“Can you handle the rest of your shirt,” Felicity teases, low and seductive, fingers dancing at the waistband of his pants, “while I move on?”

Oliver doesn’t respond with words. He props himself on an elbow and rids himself of the offending garment. It flutters to the floor wherever he tossed it, in some corner of his vision, but he’s entirely fixated on Felicity fingers undoing his belt. Slowly.

 

“Felicity—” he gasps, but she knows his tone and sinks gentle but sharp fingernails into the exposed skin just above his waistband.

“No, no, hush. This is all about you, which means you get to relax.”

“If this is all about me,” he breathes, “can you please go faster?”

Her grin is wicked and beautiful and Oliver has never felt more loved and cherished in his entire life. “It’s all about you, which means I get to do whatever I want.”

“How does that work?”

“It just does,” she counters, returning to her slow work on his belt. “Now, be quiet and let me play.”

He does just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, lovies! Remember, we're not rewriting the crossover, so feel free to re-watch if you need to brush up before next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Tumblr


	8. At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! don't forget to rewatch or brush up on the crossover before reading this chapter as we did not rewrite it! i hope you all enjoy <3 - felicityollies
> 
> beta'd by bri (bri617aroundtheworld) thank you so much!

_Oliver stands on dewy grass. A cool mist blows against him. Gentle rays from the sun shine down on him, Felicity, and their close friends. Iris and Barry are getting married; John Diggle is presiding over the wedding. Everything is quiet. Everything is perfect and God knows they deserve it after everything they’ve been through. He’s happy for them. He should be watching the small wedding, listening to their words of love, but his eyes stay on Felicity. A vision of beauty. The sun glints off her perfect blue eyes and makes her blonde tresses seem even more golden. He can watch her all day and never get tired of the sight. She shifts just slightly and he can see the wheels spinning in her head. He wonders what she’s thinking about so hard._

_Then she speaks, interrupting the ceremony. He startles. It seems so unlike her, but no one stops her from speaking._

_He feels the breath leave his body as she continues. She says words he never thought he would hear. Not after what she said about marriage; she doesn’t believe in it. Doesn’t want to get married. He never thought he would hear these words. Not after what they’ve gone through in the last six years. The ups and downs. The disappointments and hurt he’s caused. He knows now he wants and deserves love, her love, but marriage…_

_“Will you marry me? I believe in you, and I believe that no matter what life throws at us our love can conquer it, married, unmarried. My greatest fear - my greatest fear in life is losing you.”_

_He can barely choke out the word he needs to answer her, “Yes.”_

_Oliver takes her hands in his. Hot tears burn in his eyes. This is all he’s ever wanted. To finally stand before the woman he loves and marry her. He lets it wash over him. This is really happening. She looks at him with the same intense adoration and love; she gazes at him as if he’s hung the moon just for her, it makes his heart swell. She’s the sun. She’s the brightest light in his life, a radiant heartbeat close to his own, and the person who has shown him the way to pull his own light from the darkness. He might have hung the moon, but she, she’s the sun._

_Her own tears roll down her cheeks. Felicity’s the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Inside and out, beauty shines brightly from within. He doesn’t care that this isn’t a traditional wedding and she isn’t dressed in a gown. Part of him has dreamed of the big white wedding, but they aren’t traditional people. This is enough. All he wants is her. To spend the rest of his life married to Felicity Smoak. To have a family with her. To make her happy and be happy himself. They deserve it._

_“Felicity, I'm a better human being... Just because I've loved you.”_

* * *

Oliver’s head is still spinning after everything that has happened. He knows he’s his own worst enemy at the worst of times, but he never thought he would truly have to face himself down. Let alone a Nazi version of himself. Images of that other world play in his head. Nauseating nagging of the fact he almost lost the ones he loves pulls at his insides. He almost lost Felicity. He watched an ugly version of himself point an arrow at her heart, but still she stood strong and held her own. It didn’t make him any less scared.

Felicity’s greatest fear in life is losing him and his is losing her.

He fidgets where he stands. His pointer finger and thumb rub together in an annoying nervous habit. He’s surrounded by decorations of beautiful silver and gold. Autumn colored flowers, oranges, yellows, and reds, sit on the tables. There are soft pink roses throughout the room as well; they remind him of Felicity. They appear soft and delicate, but they still have thorns. People he knows, friends and family, stand about, drinking champagne, relaxing, talking, and of course dancing to the music that fills the room. He can feel the excitement building in the crowd. He’s excited too, but for him it’s a nervous excitement that makes it feel like there’s a million butterflies flitting around his stomach.

“You look like you’re going to combust,” Thea whispers beside him.

He chuckles. “Maybe.”

His younger sister smiles up at him, patting him on the shoulder. “You know there’s nothing to be nervous about, you’re already married.”

“I know,” he sighs.

She smirks, “But, she _is_ going to knock you dead.”

“She already has.”

John and William come towards them. Digg holds a small gold box tied with a delicate white ribbon, before he can speak, though, William pipes up.

“Aunt Thea said I could have champagne tonight.” He says the words quickly as if he’s nervous.

Thea startles. “I said a sip!” she responds just as quickly. “During the toasts.”

Oliver smiles, a memory of when he and Thea were children flashing through his mind. “Mom and Dad used to let us do that, it’s okay.”

A small sigh of relief leaves Thea’s lips. “We seemed to turn out alright.”

“More or less,” he mutters.

She rolls her eyes and wraps an arm around William. “Before we actually do get into trouble….” she trails off, leading him away.

Oliver’s glad to see his sister busy and at least somewhat happy; like the rest of them, she’s been through a lot lately.

John chuckles. “Lyla sends her apologies,” he says. “She really wanted to be here for _this_.”

“ARGUS doesn’t stop for anything, huh?” Oliver jokes.

Digg shakes his head. “Believe me, she wished it stopped for this.”

Oliver grins.

“Congratulations, man.”

Oliver hugs his brother tightly. They can continue to play nice, though there’s an obvious tension from what happened before. He still can’t believe Digg has been lying to everyone for so long about using drugs to go out in the field. But now’s not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Where’s the bride?” John asks as he pulls away.

“I don’t know…. There was allegedly a plan…” Oliver sucks in a deep breath and looks up towards the doorway he has been eyeing for the last ten minutes.

His heart stutters in his chest and his breath catches in his throat.

Felicity walks into the room and everything seems to slow down. Her mother stands beside her, but he barely notices Donna; he only has eyes for his wife. _His wife_.

Felicity’s hair falls around her shoulders in golden waves. Her makeup is done perfectly and he just wants to kiss those plump red lips. His eyes keep moving downward to her dress. White lace that fits to her body like a glove. She looks like the beautiful bride he always envisioned her to be. But through the millions of times he pictured their wedding, he probably couldn’t have imagined it as perfect as it is now. He’s glad for it. Her delicate fingers wrap around a beautiful bouquet. He can see the glint of her wedding band. It makes his heart flutter in his chest. The brilliant smile she throws his way makes her eyes sparkle.

He lets out a shaky breath. Oliver feels as if he could float away, but somehow, he manages to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.

Felicity takes a step towards him and lets out a soft, “Hi.”

He grins. “Hello.”

“Son!” Donna exclaims, gently shoving Felicity out of the way.

“Okay,” Felicity says quietly, rolling her eyes in amusement as she slips behind her mother.

“I can call you ‘son’ now, right?” Donna asks hopefully.

Oliver chuckles almost nervously. “Of course.”

“Great!” She grips onto his cheeks with both hands, squeezing his face tight. “Welcome to the family!”

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

He lets her pull him down to plant a kiss on his forehead. He truly loves Donna. She’s nothing like his own mother was, but she’s amazing nonetheless. Her personality sparkles as much as her beaded green dress. She’s the kind of person who lights up a room with her shining smile and bright persona. It’s no wonder Felicity is her own radiant beam of light. Although, if he ever accuses Felicity of being anything like her mother, he might find himself sleeping on the couch.

Donna pulls back, lacing her fingers together and sighing happily as she gazes up at him. “I’m so happy for the both of you”—she glances to Felicity—“but you could have invited me to the wedding.”

“Mom,” Felicity whines, “I told you… it was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Spur of the moment,” Donna scoffs. “You should have had a proper Jewish wedding.”

“If we ever have time in the future,” Oliver interjects before a fight can break out, “we’ll have a real, proper Jewish wedding.” He says it mostly to make Donna happy, but he does truly think Felicity deserves to have her faith represented. It’s something that has and will always be important to him.

“You’re such a good boy,” Donna beams and hugs him tightly.

The hug seems to get tighter and lasts an abnormally long time. Felicity rolls her eyes and groans loudly.

“Mom”—she tugs Donna away from him—“Go get some champagne. Dance. Do something. Please.”

“You are no fun.” Her mother waves her hand, but struts off towards the bar.

“Now... where were we?” Felicity steps closer to him.

“I believe, I was about to kiss you.” He leans in, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Oliver, Felicity!” he hears a familiar and very excited voice call through the crowd.

Felicity stiffens beside him.

Laura and Adam Hoffman sidle up to them. Felicity turns, wrapping an arm around him and putting on her best smile. He knows she isn’t the Hoffman’s biggest fan, but he also knows she can play nice.

“Congratulations!” Laura beams at them. “I always knew you two would get back together. See, I told you.” She swats playfully at her husband.

“She really did,” Adam chuckles.

“Even when I saw in the news that your engagement had been broken off, I told him that you two were just meant to be!” she exclaims.

“Aren’t you the sweetest.” Felicity scrunches her nose.

Oliver squeezes her gently. “Thank you,” he says.

“We miss you guys back in Ivy Town,” Adam says. “The Wolverine games just aren’t the same without your crockpot meatballs, Oliver.”

Oliver can’t help but preen a little. “I appreciate that, but I don’t see us coming back to Ivy Town any time soon. We loved it there, but Star City is our home.”

Felicity looks up at him with the softest smile, she rests her head on his side, seeming to relax a little more.

Laura and Adam take their leave with parting words of, “Enjoy your new crockpot,” and a wink.

Oliver’s genuinely excited about their wedding gift; Felicity’s not.

“No more interruptions,” he mumbles, pulling her close.

She grins, leaning up on tiptoes.

Thea seems to pop up out of nowhere, clearing her throat, “Cake,” she says innocently. “We’re waiting for you to cut the cake.”

He just knows his little sister did that on purpose. Rolling his eyes, he grips onto his wife’s hand and squeezes gently. His heart stutters every time he thinks the word wife. Felicity Smoak is his wife and they’re about to cut their _wedding_ cake together.

The cake’s from his favorite bakery, the same one Felicity got his birthday cake the previous year. It’s a simple vanilla bean with buttercream frosting, but it’s a couple tiers and decorated in elegant designs. The same pink roses around the room sit on a few of the tiers and on the very top stands a couple made of marzipan who look very much like him and Felicity; he thinks it’s amazing work for such short notice. He stands in front of it and begins to slice the cake with a gentle hand. Oliver hands Felicity a slice before plucking one for himself. These traditions are so silly, but he’s thoroughly enjoying himself anyway. He wants to feed Felicity a piece of cake and kiss the frosting from her lips. She smiles wide, looking innocent and sweet. He should have known it was a ruse. She leans up and smashes the small piece of cake against his mouth. He chokes on his laugh as she shoves her fingers into his mouth. She cackles, an almost evil sound.

Felicity pulls her messy hand back. He looks at her with mischief in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare,” she giggles.

He repeats her actions, squishing cake against her mouth and shoving it in, though he’s a little more gentle than she was. She stumbles in her laughter and swats at him. There’s clapping and laughing from the crowd, but Oliver barely notices the rest of the people at the reception. He only has eyes for his cackling wife.

“You’re in so much trouble when we get out of here,” she says as she wipes her face with a napkin.

“You started it,” he reminds her, wiping cake remnants from his beard.

Her eyes sparkle with her wide grin. She cleans her hands and nods. “I did, but you weren’t supposed to get me back.”

After wiping his own hand, he leans in, pulling her close by the hip. “Now, how is that fair?”

“It’s not,” she laughs.

He nuzzles his nose against hers. Their lips hover close.

“Oliver.”

He leans his head back and sighs heavily.

Thea grins at him. “You’re the one that asked me to keep things running smoothly tonight.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “I did. What is it now?”

“Champagne? Toasts?”

“And then what?”

“Dancing.”

“And then…”

“I’ll leave you alone.”

He narrows his eyes further. Oliver loves his sister dearly, but she has the worst timing tonight and he knows she’s messing with him. They’re never too old for a little rivalry.

“Where’s William?”

Thea nods to the left. He glances in that direction and spots Donna pinching William’s cheeks, cooing over him. She’s been thrilled to finally have a grandchild and, even though he’s already a pre-teen, Donna has no problem with jumping in and spoiling him rotten. It warms his heart to know that William has this little family. It’s an odd one; the team, Donna, Thea, him, and Felicity, but it’s William’s family and they’re going to take care of him. It’s what he needs and deserves after everything that happened earlier that year.

He must have been staring for a while because he suddenly feels Felicity’s hand against his cheek, turning his attention back to her. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Just so you know, that whackjob is already your in-law so if you’re having second thoughts…”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says. “In fact, I was thinking about how grateful I am for _our_ family.”

“You really do love me.”

He cups her cheek. “I love you more than anything.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Thea mutters. 

Felicity picks up her bouquet from near the cake. “How about I toss this thing first?”

Thea nods. “Good idea.”

“Alright, everyone!” Felicity yells, waving the bouquet.

There’s a loud shriek, presumably from Donna. All the single ladies and Curtis gather into a group to catch the bouquet. Oliver crosses his arms over his chest as he watches the game.

“I am happy for you,” Thea says, gripping his arm. “You both deserve to be blissfully happy.”

He glances down at her and smiles. “Thanks.”

“But I wouldn’t be Thea Queen if I didn’t mess with you a little.”

She gently shoves him in the shoulder and he shoves her back.

“One…. two…. three!” Felicity shouts as she tosses the bouquet behind her.

He watches the flowers fly above her head and into the crowd. Donna catches them with an excited squeal, but Curtis rips them from her hands. His eyes widen; he’s sure a fight is about to start. Thea starts towards them.

“No fighting over the flowers!”

Felicity’s a heap of giggles when she makes her way back to him and he wraps his arms around her.

“I’m a little worried for Curtis,” he says.

“Me too, but I think Thea’s got it handled.”

His eyes move back towards the crowd where Thea has wedged herself between Curtis and Donna. The flowers are back in Donna’s hands where they belong, but his mother-in-law looks like she’s ready to take her earrings off to fight.

“I think Curtis is a little drunk.” Felicity shakes her head.

Oliver shrugs. “It’s a party.” 

While everyone seems distracted, he takes the opportunity to finally kiss Felicity. He leans in, brushing his lips against hers in a sweet peck. His hands move up her back, hugging her body gently to his.

“Mmm,” she mumbles against his lip, “I thought I was going to have to wait all night.” She steals another couple of pecks.

He melts into her. Their kisses stay soft and sweet, while the room around them disappears. His heart thrums in his chest. He’s so goddamn in love with her, he can feel a buzzing happiness from his head to his toes.

An applause erupts in the room, replacing the music that’s been there before.

Everyone’s calmed down and all eyes are on them. He can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed. Oliver’s in love and Felicity is all that matters right now.

Curtis stumbles forward, sloshing his glass of champagne. “What is love?” he asks the crowd, slurring his words. “Does it really exist?”

Thea grabs his wrist. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Aww,” he whines.

“What I think my friend is trying to say,” Rene interjects, “is that true love is hard to find and sometimes we don’t even believe it exists, but Oliver and Felicity have it...” he nods at both of them and raises his champagne glass. “When I look at them, I’m reminded of how I felt when my wife and I got married. That love… the feeling that you would do anything in the world for the other person...” he takes a deep breath, “...they are two of the most generous people and they deserve to be happy and in love. More so than anyone else I know.”

Oliver’s heart swells at Rene’s words. He remembers when he met Rene; he was stubborn, he still is, but the two of them did not get along. There was fighting, hateful words, and pushing, but now most of that is behind them. They’re a team, they’re friends, and most of all they’re family. Oliver cares for Rene and his daughter, Zoe, just as he cares for John, Lyla, and J.J.

“To true love,” Rene says. “To Oliver and Felicity.”

“To Oliver and Felicity,” the crowd echoes.

Oliver leans in and kisses Felicity again. She smiles against his lips as the room fills with another loud round of applause.

As the cheers die down, the music picks up again, so he steps back and holds his hand out to Felicity.

“I thought Oliver Queen didn’t dance,” she teases.

He smiles. “I think I can make an exception for my wife.”

She places her hand in his. Her other hand rests on his shoulder while his moves to her waist. The smile on her face is both pleased and amused. It makes her eyes sparkle.

_At last my love has come along._ The words flow through the air. He feels them in his chest, in his heart. _My lonely days are over and life is like a song._

He moves slowly with the music, being careful not to step on her toes. Oliver’s most certainly not the best dancer in the world, but he has enough rhythm to keep him from looking awkward. He lets the rest of the room melt away as he listens to the music and dances across the floor with Felicity. His eyes stay on her bright eyes and beautiful smile. He can feel his heart threatening to burst from his chest.

“And here we are in heaven for you are mine… at last,” he whispers as the song ends.

She giggles, “Cheesy.” She leans up and kisses his grinning mouth.

Their teeth clack together because neither of them can stop smiling. They laugh into each other’s mouths, barely managing an actual kiss.

They slip away from the dance floor and find themselves some champagne. Oliver sips his drink with his arm wrapped around Felicity as he watches the room. Thea’s dancing with Rene, though it seems she has some words for him in the process. He can’t help the smirk that pulls at his lips. John’s keeping an eye on Curtis. Dinah’s dancing with Lance. Near the table of gifts, he spots Donna, twirling her hair and stepping oh so close to a much younger gentleman. He snorts into his drink and only nods to the source of amusement when Felicity quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, just no,” she mutters, taking a large gulp of champagne.

William saunters up to them, looking as if he’s trying not to be nervous. He bravely puffs out his chest instead and asks, “Can I have this dance?” as he holds his hand out to Felicity.

She grins, handing Oliver her glass, “Of course”—she takes William’s hand,—“I would love to.”

He watches his wife and his son step out onto the dancefloor. William hesitantly puts his hand on Felicity’s shoulder, the other settling at her waist. He can see Felicity chuckling softly and presumably whispering something like, _“You don’t have to be nervous.”_

William rolls his shoulders back, relaxing a bit. They move slowly to the music. He can tell that Will is counting steps in his head. Someone has taught him how to dance for this. Oliver glances towards his sister and meets her gaze for just a moment. She gives a slight nod and a smirking little smile. His heart warms. William’s aunt teaching him how to do a simple dance with his now step-mother. This is everything his heart desires. Everything he has ever dreamed of. Watching Felicity and William laugh as they dance, he knows life is the best it has ever been. For once he knows he deserves to feel this way. He deserves to be happy and feel this love.

Oliver wants to hold onto this feeling forever and never let go.

* * *

Oliver leans against the back wall of the hotel elevator with Felicity, now wearing his tuxedo jacket, resting snugly against his chest. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead as she looks up at him.

“I hope you’re not too tired,” he mumbles softly.

“If my mother found out she got us one of the swankiest hotel rooms in Star City and we used it to sleep, she would murder us on the spot,” she laughs.

“Such a romantic thought.”

She laughs loudly.

It’s true, though. Donna’s wedding present to them is a weekend in one of the nicest hotel rooms money can buy, with hopes they’ll use it to work on creating her more little grandchildren. He doesn’t know about creating grandchildren right at that moment, not that he hasn’t thought about it a million times, but he’s more focused on spending every minute with his wife. Alone time is something that doesn’t happen very often.

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, Felicity moves forward or tries to. Oliver keeps a hold on her, shaking his head.

“I want to do this right,” he says as he lets her go.

“Oh?”

He carefully sweeps her into his arms, bridal style. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she chuckles sweetly and kisses along his jawline. He holds an arm around her and makes sure he has the key card for their room in his other hand.

Oliver grips her gently in both arms as he steps out of the elevator. The hallway is quiet, a calm quiet that he appreciates. He walks along the patterned carpet towards their room. Felicity continues to kiss along his jaw and nuzzle at his pulse point; it sends a thrill through him. He’s more than ready to be with her. To worship every inch of her beautiful body. To show her how much he loves her in one of the best ways he knows how.

She nips at his neck and he shivers, almost stumbling. Dammit, he is Oliver Queen. He can keep his wits about him and keep walking straight.

She chuckles against his skin, “Am I throwing you off your game, Queen?” Felicity teases.

“Never,” he breathes out.

He stands in front of room 520 and swipes the key card, happily carrying Felicity across the threshold into their room. They’re met with a sleek and modern suite that somehow still has a warmth to it. The room is white with pops of color. White couches with red accent pillows, red chairs with golden designs which remind him of things he saw in Hong Kong, a smooth black coffee table atop an red and orange oriental rug, and on top of the table sits a beautiful bouquet of multicolored snapdragons. One wall is almost completely made out of windows with a beautiful view of the city and the bay. On the opposite wall is a black fireplace already burning for them. He swears it’s made of obsidian.

He lets Felicity slide from his arms onto the floor, but not without stealing a kiss first. She smiles against his lips, pressing her hand against his chest. When she pulls away, she kicks off her heels, losing about four inches. He can’t help the smirk that forms on his lips.

“Don’t even say it, Mister.” She pokes his chest.

“I would never comment on my _wife’s_ height.”

She scowls at him playfully.

He glides away from her and towards the kitchen. The modern theme continues with sleek and cool marble. His dream kitchen looks something like this, but with more black instead of so much stark white. On the island sits a cooling bottle of champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, and a large, romantic welcome basket for the happy couple.

There’s even a note, welcoming them and offering them any kind of assistance, night or day, during their stay.

Felicity snatches the note from his grasp. “They are going to regret offering that,” she mutters.

He laughs, remembering their travels from a few years ago. “Midnight burgers?”

“Midnight burgers.”

“If you’re even up to eating then…” his fingers trace up her sides.

“Snacks between rounds.”

He snorts but has to admit there’s something weirdly cute and sexy about Felicity eating a burger in the nude.

“But first…” She plucks one of the chocolate covered strawberries off the silver platter and presses it against her perfect, red lips.

He swallows a groan as she wraps her lips around the plump fruit and takes a bite. Instead, he clears his throat and says, “Champagne?”

“Please.” She swallows and licks her lips.

He grabs it from the ice bucket and pulls the two champagne flutes towards him. Oliver has to tear his eyes away from Felicity, so he doesn’t spill it. Maybe he’s a little off his game tonight, but can anyone really blame him? His wife is mercilessly teasing him. On what is pretty much a pre-honeymoon. Yep, he’s totally off his game because this is the greatest night of his life and he’s damn excited.

He slides a glass towards her, lifting his own. “To us.”

“To us.”

They clink their glasses together and quickly drain the golden liquid. It’s cool, crisp, and sparkling against his tongue. Expensive too.

Felicity drags her tongue across her lower lip, catching some excess alcohol. Everything she does is calculated. He can see it in her eyes. The taunting, teasing way she looks at him. Batting her eyelashes and smirking oh so seductively.

Why the hell is he still on the other side of the island?

In a matter of seconds, he’s on the other side, crashing his lips into hers.

“Finally,” she gasps.

He backs her up into a counter, pressing his hands on either side of it and leaning his hips into hers. His tongue rakes across her lower lip, begging for entrance. She obligingly opens her mouth and he slips his tongue inside, sliding it across her mouth, tasting her. She groans, reaching up and dragging her fingers through his hair. Her nails scratch his scalp. He returns her groan with interest.

They only pull back when air became necessary. He rests his forehead against hers, panting heavily. His slacks are already becoming tight. She breathes against his lips and brings her hand up to his cheek, letting her thumb swipe across his mouth.

“This color is fantastic on you.”

He lets out a surprised laughed. She giggles and kisses the corner of his mouth. He finally pulls back to take in the sight of her again. Her lipstick is smeared and apparently all over him. Not that he minds. He loves that disheveled look on her. Only when he has something to do with it, of course.

She slips away from him, around the island and snags the champagne off the counter, taking a swig right out of the bottle. He watches her carefully, stepping closer to her. He knows she wants him to kiss her, to take her right there, but there’s an obvious part of her that wants to play.

Before he can get any closer, she darts off towards the living room, bottle still in hand. He smirks, grabbing onto the plate of strawberries and following her. She sits in front of the fireplace, the light from the flames dancing across her face. He moves to sit down beside her. Felicity hands him the bottle and he takes a large drink. He licks his lips, but keeps his gaze on hers. Her eyes however are glued to his mouth. With his wife’s undivided attention on him he takes the opportunity to pick up a strawberry and bite into it. The fruit is tart and the chocolate slightly sweet and bitter. It’s so fresh, the juice from the strawberry dribbles down his chin. He knows by the way her eyes follow the juice exactly what she’s thinking about.

Not hesitating any longer Felicity leans in, taking his chin in her thumb and forefinger. She brings him closer and licks the juice from his skin. He groans, parting his lips. She slips her tongue into his mouth. He groans again, louder this time, as she presses into him. Her hand glides across his chest, gripping at his shirt. He reaches into his jacket, pushing it off of her shoulders and away from her body. She climbs into his lap, straddling him. The strawberries and champagne are forgotten. Pushed aside and ignored.

His fingers find the zipper on her dress that travels down the entire length of it. He’s been dying to unzip it all night. Some dark part of him has imagined taking it down with his teeth, but this will do. He carefully drags it down until it reaches the bottom. She pulls back from the kiss, panting heavily. He takes in his own deep breath, watching her as if she’s the most important person in the world.

Because she _is._

Felicity pulls back all the way, standing to the side of him. She lets the dress fall to the floor, revealing white lingerie underneath. A sheer, lace one piece. He swallows thickly, his gaze travelling over her body. Her breasts are cupped in a slightly more opaque piece, pushed up in the most delicious sight. She turns slowly, showing her back almost completely on display and her ass. _Her ass._ The lingerie’s tight, accentuating the roundness of her perfect ass. She looks at him over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling as her lips curl into a devious smirk.

His slacks are definitely tighter now.

“C’mere,” he rasps.

She turns around again and steps back over his lap. He places his hands on her hips, holding her in place. He scoots a little closer and presses a kiss just above her center. She lets out a shaky breath. She’s already wet. He licks her through the thin fabric; his eyes stayed on her face. Her mouth falls open slightly. He smirks, taking the sweetest part of her into his mouth and sucking.

“Oh,” she drags out the word with a gasp.

She rakes her fingers through his hair as he sucks her harder. He can feel her lingerie dampen further.

“More,” she commands.

He reaches up, gripping the straps of her lingerie and dragging it down her body. Slowly, each inch of her flesh is revealed to him. Each glorious piece of skin. He licks his lips at the sight of her bare breasts and again as the lingerie slides past her wet and awaiting core. He pulls the fabric past her thighs and she does the rest of the work, kicking it away.

Oliver squeezes her ass and brings her closer to his mouth. One hand holds onto her ass cheek, while the other reaches up, massaging her breast. His mouth works her center; his tongue tasting her sweet essence and teasing her bundle of nerves. Her fingers find his hair again, gripping tighter this time. She moans loudly and rolls her hips against his mouth. Each sound, each taste, and each movement sends a thrill through him. He can feel a warmth in his lower stomach, a tightness. His length presses against his slacks almost painfully, but he ignores his own needs and focuses all his attention on her.

Felicity tenses in his grasp. He knows she’s close, so he takes her in his mouth again, sucking roughly.

“Oh god.” She shakes.

He hums against her, sending a vibrating sensation through her.

“Oliver!”

He holds on tight, refusing to let go. She trembles in his arms; her thighs quaking on either side of him. Wetness drips down his mouth and chin. Slowly, slowly, she comes down from her climax. She takes in deep breaths and slumps against him. He lets his hands come down to her hips again and kisses her sensitive nub.

She shivers and moans.

He kisses her wet thighs, licking up her essence, “So beautiful. So delicious.”

Her fingers move through his hair gently this time. He leans back down against the floor and she follows his movements down. She straddles his lap again, hovering over his now throbbing length. Her fingers work the buttons on his shirt. It slips from his body, but her eyes never do.

Felicity leans in and presses her lips to his. Happily, he kisses her back, but it doesn’t last for long. Her lips travel to his jaw and neck. To his collarbone and to the place where his Bratva tattoo once was. It’s now a rough scar, but she’s always treated his scars with gentle care. Her lips brush against it, kissing it softly. Their gazes meet and just with her eyes, she reminds him that he’s strong for the things he has gone through.

Oliver moves his hands across her back, gently grazing the little bullet marks that pepper her lower back. The scars she hates; the scars that are reminders of what Damien Darhk did to her. But as she always tells him, they’re reminders of her strength and perseverance.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too.”

She moves further up his body, straddling his stomach. Their lips meet again. He rests one hand at her lower back and uses the other to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He sighs against her lips when he’s free of his slacks and boxers. She slides backwards, dragging her wetness across his length.

“Oh fuck,” he groans.

Felicity grips him and carefully guides him towards her center. She slides down, taking his entire length in one swift motion. He hisses in pleasure. She’s warm and wet. A wonderful tightness wraps around him. He wants to savor the feeling of being buried inside of her.

She rests her hands on his shoulders and locks eyes with him again. Slowly, her body moves backwards, sliding off of him almost completely before rolling her hips forward and taking him in again.

“Fuck.” It feels amazing.

He sits up a little more, bending his knees, so he can thrust his hips and meet her movements. As he looks into her eyes and feels her body against his, he knows more than ever that this is it for him. She’s it for him.

Felicity looks at him with all the love and adoration she has ever shown him in the past six years. She slams her lips into his and he feels every ounce of strength he has ever borrowed from her. Their passion burns as strong as the flames in the fireplace behind them. He feels it in their kiss.

His body is warm with everything he feels for her. Never has he loved a woman like he loves Felicity Smoak. She’s the light that guides his way. The person that harnesses the light that is inside of him, a light he thought died a long time ago. She makes him a better person and god knows he’s grateful every day for that. He appreciates everything she’s done for him and he wants to show that to her for the rest of his life.

Oliver rolls their bodies and presses her into the floor. He grinds his hips into hers, thrusting slowly, but roughly. His lips find her neck, kissing that one spot which makes her knees weak and goosebumps erupt across her flesh.

“Mmm, Oliver,” she moans.

He grips her thigh, lifting it and giving him a better angle. His thrusts become faster and deeper. Felicity arches her back into him, groaning louder. He leans back slightly, watching her underneath him. She’s so beautiful.

Their eyes meet again. Passionate flames light her eyes. She holds onto him tightly as her body begins to quiver again. He feels her tighten around him, drawing a gasp from his lips. Oliver’s thrusts become erratic, but his eyes never leave hers. His lower stomach tightens until something snaps inside of him. He calls out her name as he gives one last thrust inside of her.

A buzzing feeling of satisfaction washes over him as pleasure tingles from his toes to his nose. He carefully slides out of her and moves to lie down beside her, pulling her closer to him, wrapping his arm around her glistening body. They’re covered in sweat, but none of that matters. The only thing that does matter is the fact he has his wonderful wife in his arms and he has never felt happier.

Oliver kisses her forehead, barely letting his lips brush against her skin, “I love you so much,” he mumbles.

She snuggles closer, burying her face in his chest. “I love you too.”

His heart thuds in his chest with love and happiness. Excitement for their future. But he can lie here for an eternity with her in his arms. Her warmth against his chest. _In his heart._

At one point in his life he would have been afraid to love someone as much as he loves her, but he doesn’t fear that feeling anymore. He doesn’t fear having a son and raising him with her. He doesn’t fear their future.

Oliver lets out a slow breath. For a moment he can forget about all the shit going on in their lives and just savor _this_. He can hold her, be with her, and forget there’s danger in the city. He has responsibilities of course, but for this one moment it’s just the two of them.

“You know what?” she says, interrupting his thoughts.

“What?”

“I’m ready for that burger now.”

He laughs loudly, burying his face in her hair. God, he loves her.

* * *

There are a few days left until Hanukkah and Felicity’s beyond excited because this year is going to be extra special. Pretty much every year since she left home, she spent the holidays alone, lighting her Menorah. Unless she’s counting the years someone was in the hospital, or she was playing superhero hacker.

But this year is different.

She’s a wife. She’s a mother. She has a family to celebrate Hanukkah with. _And she’s determined not to let some dastardly villain ruin it._

Everything has been relatively quiet since they returned from Central City, but she isn’t counting on it to stay that way for long. She just wants it to be that way long enough to enjoy the holidays.

Felicity sits at the breakfast bar in her favorite grey sweats and a bright blue and silver Hanukkah sweater that has a giant light up dreidel on it. Her hair sits in a messy bun on top of her head, but she really doesn’t give a damn about her appearance, she’s completely focused on Oliver.

He’s making _sufganiyot_ , her most favorite Hanukkah dish.

William peeks his head out from his room and sniffs the air. “What smells so good?”

She waves him over and pats the seat beside her. “Donuts.”

“Donuts?” he questions, taking the seat. His hair’s still a mess and he’s still dressed in plaid pajamas.

Oliver is apparently the only person who can properly dress in the morning, standing there in jeans and a t-shirt as he pokes at the sufganiyot.

“Traditional, jelly-filled Hanukkah donuts.”

“What do donuts have to do with Hanukkah?”

“They’re cooked in oil which is very important to the holiday,” she explains without looking away from the donuts being pulled from the oil and dunked in sugar.

She licks her lips.

“Felicity can tell you anything you could ever want to know about Hanukkah,” Oliver says, glancing back at her.

She nods. “Of course and I will happily teach you _everything_ , but after donuts.”

“They’re still too hot,” Oliver chuckles.

“ _I_ will be the judge of that.”

William covers his laugh with a cough.

She scowls at him, but her step-son simply looks away with the most innocent look on his face. Rolling her eyes, she turns her gaze back to Oliver, who has started to fill a plate with sugary donuts.

“Are we still going to celebrate Christmas?” William asks quietly.

Oliver turns, meeting Felicity’s gaze and then looking to his son. She isn’t sure if he’s worried about offending her or what, but she frowns. Felicity’s a proud Jewish woman and would never let anyone take her heritage away from her, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to put a stop to Christmas in the Queen's household. She isn’t a _Grinch_.

“Of course,” she says, “Chrismukkah is a thing for a reason you know.”

Oliver visibly relaxes.

“Chrismukkah?” William frowns.

“Christmas and Hanukkah or in other words,” Felicity beams, “nine days’ worth of presents.”

The pre-teen’s eyes widen. “That’s okay with me.”

“I thought you would say that.”

“Alright,” Oliver interjects, “these are cool enough.” He slides a plate of donuts between them.

Felicity squeals, immediately plucking one off the plate. They’re little round balls of heaven and she’s more than a little excited. She shoves an entire donut in her mouth and moans happily. The homemade strawberry jelly oozes out onto her tongue. She swears her eyeballs are going to roll into the back of her head.

“Never will I have store bought again,” she says with her mouth full.

Oliver gives her a smug, _cat that got the cream_ , grin.

William picks one up off the plate and takes a bite. He seems to think about it as he chews, tormenting Oliver as he decides whether or not he likes the little morsel. “These are pretty good.”

Felicity and Oliver scoff at the same time.

William chuckles, “Okay, they’re really good.”

* * *

Oliver and Felicity intended to take William out to get a small tree for the apartment that afternoon, but they were interrupted by an alert on Felicity’s tablet. More trouble in the city. It never seems to end, but it’s _his_ job to protect the city. It always has been. He has to keep the city, his friends, and his family safe.

Keeping his friends and family safe becomes harder when they’re fighting day and night to protect the city with him. He watches them fight; he watches them skate by without injury. Some might call it luck. He’s not sure he would call any of them lucky when they’re living this life.

He sets his bow in its case and glances towards Rene; he definitely hasn’t been lucky tonight. A bullet grazed his arm. _Grazed_ is putting it nicely, though. Oliver promised Rene that Zoe would stay safe and that means keeping _him_ safe. How can he keep his promise if Rene is in the line of fire every night?

His arrow barely made it across the alleyway to the perpetrator’s arm in time to stop the bullet from going into his shoulder or _worse_. If something had happened to Rene, Oliver wouldn’t know what to do. It is his fault if one of his team members gets injured.

Maybe Rene _is_ lucky for getting away with no hospital visit and barely any stitches tonight. No, Dinah’s currently patching him up while the rest of the team get cleaned up and ready to go home.

He searches the rest of the room. Digg sits beside Felicity at her desk. He’s been barred from field work until everyone’s sure he’s okay. There used to be so much trust between them that’s been tested. John lied to all of them and put himself and the team in danger. He used drugs. God dammit, John has a son and a wife too. He shouldn’t have been pushed to using drugs. Oliver feels blame for this, too. If John worked a normal job and if he had a normal life, none of this would have happened.

John and Rene have families they should be taking care of. Dinah has a shining career ahead of her. So does Curtis. What the hell are they all doing here? Their lives are more important than this. It’s _his_ duty to take care of the city, not theirs.

The last couple weeks have really put things into perspective for him. From battling Nazis to the weddings and spending time with his family, he knows the most important thing is to live life. When he decided to come home six years ago, he made the choice to protect his city. To sacrifice his own happiness to make sure everyone else could live their lives in peace, be happy and not worry about any threats. His friends and family deserve that. They deserve a peaceful life where they don’t have to put on suits and risk their lives every night, hunting down criminals.

What has he dragged them all into? What was he thinking?

He can protect this city on his own. He’s done it before.

Before he confided in Diggle and Felicity. Before he destroyed their lives.  
This needs to stop. Right now.  
John, Rene, Curtis, Dinah, and even Felicity need to leave, need to go live, and be safe. For god’s sake they need to be safe.

“I need everyone to gather around.” He moves to stand near Rene and Dinah.

He glances over everyone and receives expectant expressions, crossed arms, and a little confusion.

“We can’t do this anymore,” he says simply.

“Excuse me?” Felicity sounds confused.

“You all have lives. You”—he points to John and Rene—“have children, families. You shouldn’t be out here doing this anymore.”

“Ain’t that a bit hypocritical, Hoss?” Rene winces as Dinah adjusts the bandage.

“No, this has always been _my_ mission,” he says, “and nothing is going to change that.”

“Oliver,” Felicity hisses, eyes wide with confusion and anger.

“William has you now,” he mutters.

She looks taken aback. He’s aware it’s a lot to put on her shoulders. She’s just begun taking on the role of mother, but there’s no going back from this. If something were to happen to him it would be Felicity and William. He knows she can handle it and that she is a great mother to him. It doesn’t stop fear from seeping into Felicity’s eyes.

He shakes his head and continues. “You all have lives to get back to and I suggest you do that.”

“Are you firing us?” Curtis asks.

Oliver thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

“You can’t do that.” Rene stands angrily. He winces again, pressing his hand against his injury.

“We’ve stood by you through all of this,” Dinah adds, taking a step closer to him as if she’s ready to lunge at him.

John just shakes his head and walks away from Oliver. His silence is worse than outright anger. He knows it means trouble later. Oliver stares after his friend, watching him leave the bunker through the elevator. No words, no glances back, nothing; John leaves them all behind in a tension filled silence.

Dinah, Rene, Curtis, and Felicity stare at him, waiting for an explanation, waiting for more than what he can offer them. The anger and confusion written all over their faces makes him wish this was easier, but it’s not. He has to fire them; he has to make them leave, even if that means making them hate him for a short time. Eventually, they’ll hopefully realize he’s doing this for them.

Oliver takes in a deep breath. “I can do this on my own. You all need to go home and live your lives,” he repeats. “You and your families, your jobs, are more important than this.”

They look as if they’re about to start arguing again.

“This isn’t a discussion,” he snaps.

“The last time I checked this wasn’t a dictatorship,” Dinah snaps right back.

“It isn’t a democracy either,” Oliver growls, invading her space.

She scowls and takes a step back. “You can’t make these decisions for us.”

“I already have. You’re all fired. Now go.”

Rene throws his shirt back on and storms out of the bunker. Dinah looks as if she wants to scream in his face, but instead turns on her heels and quickly follows Rene out of the building.

“I can’t believe this,” Curtis mumbles, turning to go. “After everything we’ve been through together.” He continues to mutter as he steps into the elevator.

Felicity crosses her arms, looking up at him. “You’re firing me?”

“Everyone is fired.”

“You can’t fire me. I’m your _wife_!”

He can barely look her in the eyes. This is the hardest part. She’s right. They’re married and he has to see her every day and know that he hurt her.

“You can’t push me away,” she yells. “Oliver, look at me!”

He sighs and meets her gaze. “Everyone needs to go back to their lives,” he says earnestly, “You need to focus on Smoak Tech… not this.”

“This is my life. This is what I chose six years ago. This is what I chose when I married you,” she argues, not backing down. “How do you expect to take all of this on by yourself?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Things were different back then. You need us.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promises. “You need to go.”

She takes a step back. “You’re firing me _and_ kicking me out.”

“It’s for the best.”

“Are you firing me as your wife, too?” she asks bitterly, not waiting for his reply before shaking her head angrily and stalking off. “This conversation isn’t over.”

The hurt that fills her eyes makes his stomach clench. He never wants to be the cause of her pain and yet here he is doing it again. Oliver watches her go and stands there in the silence. His emotions feel like a mess; he’s angry at himself for hurting those that he loves, he’s worried, and a little sad. His stomach twists up into knots. He feels like he could vomit, but he doesn’t have the time for it. He needs to get back to work.

_This is for the best._ He tells himself over and over again. Everyone will be safe. The burden of the city rests on his shoulders once again and his team and family can live their lives in peace. _This is for the best._


	9. Father, Oh, Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Kathi (smkkbert)
> 
> Beta'd by Isle

**Episode 9 – Father, oh, Father**

The morning sun dips the bedroom into a golden light. Some rays fall onto Oliver’s back, and the warmth leaves a prickling feeling on his skin. Though, it isn’t the sun that makes his morning start in the best way possible.

Snuggling his cheek into the pillow, Oliver takes in the sight of the woman he would now wake up to for the rest of his life. He tries to memorize the look of her full lips that still look a little bit reddened and swollen from last night, as well as, the scent of her skin with just a hint of perfume left. Oliver has memorized all of her before, but he already knows that he would do so again and again, for the rest of his life.

A wide smile spreads on his lips at the thought that he is really going to spend the rest of his life with her now. He feels the cold metal around his finger reminding him of the vows they have made to each other by agreeing to become husband and wife. From now on, they will forever be linked together, and Oliver will make good on that promise as thoroughly as he can.

With a smile on her lips, Felicity awakens as she perks up her eyebrows. Oliver props himself up onto his forearms and captures Felicity’s lips in a gentle kiss. She sighs into it, stroking a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips break apart, and Felicity’s fingers travel down his back. Her short fingernails scratch over his skin lightly, making Oliver hum contently.

“Good morning, wife,” he whispers, resting his head back on the pillow.

“Good morning, husband,” Felicity whispers back, her smile widening, “and Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Chanukah.”

“Technically, Chanukah is already over.”

“Right.” Oliver puckers his lips. “Sorry.”

Felicity chuckles. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

Oliver reaches out his hand and strokes his fingers through her blonde hair. She hasn’t straightened it after her shower yesterday, so her natural curls are showing. Oliver likes that look on her, especially because he knows it is almost always reserved for him. Only he gets to see her like this for the rest of their lives.

Everything about this morning is perfect. Lying next to Felicity while she is scratching his back and just being lazy feels perfect. It feels like Ivy Town but better.

“Our first Christmas morning as a family,” Felicity says eventually, wiggling with her eyebrows. “What’s the tradition?”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders. “Presents, breakfast, a lazy day spent with family.”

Felicity rolls her eyes, and it makes the corners of Oliver’s lips twitch. He tries his best not to show it though. He knows Felicity doesn’t want him to be amused be when she tries to be angry with him.

“Let me specify my question,” Felicity says, digging her fingernails just a little bit more into his skin. “What’s the tradition for the Queen Family?”

Oliver takes in a deep breath and holds it for a couple of seconds. It had been so long since his family really celebrated Christmas. He remembers Christmas two years ago of course when he had proposed to Felicity, but the memory is overshadowed by the fear of losing her when Darhk shot her and it adds to the bitter taste of the secret he had kept from her. These last years, Christmas just hadn’t been a good time for him.

“When I was a kid,” Oliver says eventually, recalling at least one happy memory he still has, “we always chose the gifts the others were allowed to unwrap. Thea started and handed each of us a present. I was next, then Mom and finally Dad. We made it a game to make sure everyone got to unwrap the gift they were most excited about last. We all played by the same strategy and yet everyone was always so surprised when they opened the last gift and got exactly what they wanted.”

He remembers the year that their parents got Thea the dollhouse she had desperately wanted. He knew exactly what gift it was, and he did his best to make sure Thea would unwrap it last.Thea had almost given up on believing she would get the dollhouse and when she had opened the last gift, she had almost started crying she was so happy. It had been a true joy to see.

“You always knew what you were getting each other?”

“Mom and Dad sometimes asked me for advice what they could get for Thea, and I think they did the same for me.”

Oliver moves his fingertip over Felicity’s cheek and enjoys the blush that spreads on her skin. It travels from her cheek all the way down her neck to the top of her chest. He already knows that he will never get tired of watching it.

“What about you and your mom?” he asks after a moment. “Did you have any traditions?”

Felicity shrugs her shoulders. “We lit the menorah every night and played dreidel like we did during the nights of Chanukah this year. We didn’t have much money, so we only gave each other presents during the last night of Chanukah. Then we watched movies and ate a lot of food.”

Oliver frowns slightly. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

With a quiet hum, Felicity lowers her eyes to her fingers on his back. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down on it. Oliver waits, giving her the time she needed to be sure about her answer.

“I think I just couldn’t really appreciate it when I was younger. My mom and I didn’t have a good relationship because we were too different, and I think I blamed her for my father leaving, at least partly. During Chanukah, we spent some nice hours together, but it was like it was all forgotten the moment we blew out the candles on the last night. Today, I really regret that.”

Watching the regret on Felicity’s face, Oliver leans forward and kisses her forehead. He knows that her relationship with Donna is a lot better now. After everything Felicity has been through and the person she has grown into, the similarities with her mother have just become more important than the differences.

“Next year, we are going to invite Donna over to spend the holidays with us,” Oliver suggests, “so you can make new memories.”

Felicity leans her head back, smiling at him gently. Her lips brush against his in a soft kiss.

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

With a sigh, Oliver rolls onto his side. He then reaches out his arms and pulls Felicity closer until she is snuggled up against him. Her chest is pressed to his so tightly that he can feel her heart beating against his ribs, and it feels incredibly good.

“How do you think the others are celebrating the holidays?” Felicity asks after a while. “I mean now that you fired them.”

Oliver purses his lips. Felicity’s voice is gentle, but she's not able to hide the bit of reproach that is in there. Thinking about it, he doubts that she wants to hide it.

“They are going to celebrate the holidays however they like because they are now free of the responsibility to drop everything, get into their masks and save the city,” Oliver says. “It’s why I asked them to leave the team in the first place.”

“You didn’t ask and give them a chance to decide themselves though. You just decided that it’s better for them which might not only be wrong, but also really isn’t fair to them.”

“Felicity, a life like this is dangerous, and in addition to that is the mission just sucking up a lot of time. That time is missing for a career or for family.” Oliver sighs. “When I did this alone, it was easier because it was my sacrifice. Even when you and John joined me, it was still kind of easy. Now, it’s different though. Rene has Zoe, and John has JJ. Dinah surely wants to make a career at the SCPD, and Curtis is helping you with your start-up. You are stretching yourself thin on all ends because you want to have it all, and, Felicity, and I want you to have it all. I just think if there is one way to make it easier for you, it’s by taking the burden of Overwatch from you.”

He looks at Felicity urgently. He wants and needs her to understand why he is doing this. Limiting the team is not his way of trying to push her or anyone away. It is his way of setting everyone free of their masks, so they have more times for their own plans. His plan and his personal dedication to save the city should not hold everyone back from their own lives.

Oliver can see in Felicity’s face that she really doesn’t agree with his perspective. He isn’t quite sure she will ever agree with his decision. He can just hope that she will eventually come to terms with it. Deep down, he solely wants what is best for her, and he knows how much she wants her company to succeed. She will make it one of the best companies in the world. Oliver knows that, because he knows Felicity and he has faith in her. He is only trying to support her by making sure she has more time and more energy to invest in the company. He believes his decision is good for her, even if Felicity might not see it yet.

“I don’t agree with you,” Felicity says shortly, “but now is not the time to talk about it anyway. We should get up. It’s time to celebrate the holidays like normal people do.”

* * *

Smiling, Thea watches a huge smile spreading on Lily’s lips as she takes the gift from Santa Claus, well, the guy she has hired to play Santa Claus for the little Christmas party at Hope House. Lily is only five years old, but she had already been through more pain than most people had to go through in a lifetime. It is what had led her here, and Thea hopes that this place, as the name promises, will give her a new hope.

“It’s a wonderful party,” Dawn says, stepping next to Thea and handing her a mug of coffee. “You did a great job.”

Thea shrugs her shoulders. “It’s nothing really.”

Dawn chuckles. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I owned a club once. Well, technically, it was Ollie’s club, but I managed it for a long time. I do know quite a few things about how to plan successful parties, and paying for it wasn’t a problem either. My dad left me more money than I will ever be able to spend.”

“So, you are saying that you are not really creative then..”

Thea releases an uncertain sound and takes a nip of her coffee. It is strong, just the way she likes it, especially after several nights with little sleep and lots of Christmas planning.

“I am just not lavish,” she replies eventually, “at least not anymore.”

The times that she has spent fortunes of money for clothes and partying are long over. It actually feels like a different lifetime. Whenever she thinks back to those days, it feels like she is looking into the window of the life of someone else.

When Cody steps forward and receives his present, he smiles briefly before he walks far away from Santa like he is afraid he can take the gift away again. He rips the paper off quickly and looks at the mini action cam inside with wide eyes. Thea smiles. She was pretty sure he would like it.

“It’s Cody’s first real Christmas, you know?” Dawn says. “His father didn’t want to spend any money on decorations or gifts. I tried to sneak some things in, but… well, it didn’t end well.”

Thea looks at Dawn, seeing the restlessness in her eyes. Thea knows the expression. She has seen it many times before when the women living here are thinking back to the times with their abusers.

Smiling comfortingly, she puts a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. Dawn flinches slightly at the touch, but Thea doesn’t take her hand away. Dawn sucks in a deep breath and puts her hand to Thea’s, smiling at her with tears in her eyes.

“Cody’s life will be better now,” Thea promises. “He will spend a lot of good Christmases with you.”

“Yes, you are probably right.” Dawn nods. “You know, I want to take Cody to an animal shelter later. He always wanted to have a dog. Right now, we can’t afford one, but at least that way he can spend a little time with the dogs there. The people working there seemed to like the idea that their dogs will get a little bit of Christmas cheer, too.”

Thea smiles. “Everyone deserves the holidays.”

“That’s right.” Dawn chuckles. “We will be back for dinner tonight, though. Will you be there too?”

“No, Ollie invited me over for dinner. It’s going to be the first Christmas we get to spend together in like forever.” Thea puckers her lips and looks at Dawn. “You and Cody could join us.”

“Oh no. We don’t want to bother you.”

“You won’t bother,” Thea assures her. “It’s going to be nice. It’s just Ollie, Felicity, William, Cody and the two of us. Oh, please agree.”

Dawn looks at her with hesitation, but Thea knows that she has perfected the pleading expression on her face that makes it impossible for anyone to say no. She is a little sister. She learned that expression long ago to get her brother to give her all the good cookies on the topmost shelf that she herself hadn’t been able to reach.

“Okay, fine.” Dawn rolls her eyes, but she chuckles at the same time. “It’s impossible to say no to you when you look at me like that.”

Thea grins happily and links her arm with Dawn. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

* * *

Quentin taps his fingers onto his desk, looking at the photo of Sara and Laurel that is placed on the edge of the desk. It is the last photo he had taken of the both of them, the day Sara had left to find out where her place in the world was after coming back from the dead for the second time. His girls looked so happy there, almost like the demons they had both been fighting for years were long forgotten.

He missed the times he had had two daughters. Losing them had driven him into alcohol addiction over and over again. Even now, he feels the need for a drink, and it is so bad that all Quentin can do is just sit there and stare at the photos of his two daughters. He knows that if he gets up and leaves his office, he will head to the next liquor store and buy a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Since Sara had gone missing with the Gambit, Christmas has always been a rough time. He hasn’t been able to enjoy Christmas Day because it is also Sara’s birthday. The last Christmas he had hoped to enjoy, had been two years ago when Laurel and Sara had both been alive and Donna had been by his side. That could have been a good Christmas, if Felicity hadn’t been shot.

Quentin shakes his head. He knows thinking about all of this is no good. It won't lead him down any good roads.

He had tried to call Sara to wish her a happy birthday and merry Christmas. He hadn’t been able to reach her though. She is probably too busy saving the world in a way that he will never really understand. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t understand it though. He is proud of her nonetheless, and that soothes the pain of missing her so much.

Leaning back in his chair with his eyes still focused on the photo, Quentin wonders how Black Siren is spending the holidays. Is she spending it at all?

He knows everyone tried to convince him that she was not his Laurel, and he agrees to a certain extent. There had been a time when he had thought the same. He had fought her, and he even shot at her.

But shooting at her had opened his eyes. During the time they have believed Black Siren was dead, Quentin thought a lot about her. And had suddenly realized that she was just the Laurel who had lost him. She had lost her father, and her life had taken a downward-spiral from there. He could be the key to help her see the good person she could be. And maybe he was the key to turning her into a happier person. She could be like his Laurel.

If these different earths show anything, it is that genetics don’t decide who a person turns out to be. It is the experience they make in life and the people they have to support them that determine who a person grows to be.

He will make sure that Black Siren will have more happy experiences from now on. She needs someone to believe in her and to show her that she doesn’t have to be this monster she tries to hide her pain behind. That someone is going to be him. He knows he can save her in a way that he hasn’t been able to save his own daughters. Sara was lucky that she had a sister who had been strong enough to bring her back. Now, it is his time to step up and save Black Siren, just like Laurel stepped up and saved Sara.

It is a father’s task to save his children. He failed Sara and Laurel in this repeatedly, but he won’t fail Black Siren. She is his second chance, and he won’t waste it.

Taking in a deep breath, Quentin feels his need for alcohol decrease. That alone should be all the sign he needs to know that he is headed back on track with focusing on helping Black Siren. It would be good distraction for him.

When Quentin turns his gaze away from the photo, his eyes fall onto the TV. He had switched it on as soon as he had stepped into his office today, but right now it is muted. The Christmas movie that began airing five minutes ago is interrupted for breaking news. Frowning, Quentin turns up the volume.

_… that the recently appointed judge Jonathan Mercer was abducted from his home in Castlefall. According to the statement his wife gave to the police, her husband disappeared overnight. While the idea of a crime was first dismissed by the police, new results prove now that Mercer is held hostage by the new Throwing Star Killer, who demands a meeting with the Green Arrow for Mercer’s life._

Quentin follows the rest of the news with a frown. This will be a terrible way to start Christmas!

* * *

“I am going to grab some coffee.”

“Oh, for me too, please,” Felicity calls after Oliver. “I am craving a mug of coffee.”

Oliver chuckles. “I know you are. William, anything for you?”

“A hot chocolate would be cool.”

“With marshmallows?”

“Is there another way to drink hot chocolate?”

Felicity chuckles, looking at William. He is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, surrounded by tons of discarded wrapping paper and the gifts he unwrapped.He’s happy and extremely grateful for his gifts, but Felicity also hasn’t missed the glimmer of sadness that crosses his face whenever he thinks nobody’s looking. The first Christmas without his mother must be particularly hard on him.

“Are you alright?” Felicity asks him gently.

William looks up and shrugs his shoulders. The right corner of his mouth twitches slightly before he lowers his eyes again.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Felicity says. “Just tell us if you need time for yourself or if there is anything we can do to make you feel better. No matter what it is.”

“Thank you,” William whispers. When he lifts his gaze to look at her once more, he smiles. “This is a really great Christmas morning.”

“I agree.” Felicity smiles. “Only a mug of coffee would make it better.”

She says the last sentence a little louder to make sure Oliver heard her. If the dish towel thrown at her head is any indication, he had. She and William both chuckle, and Oliver winks at her when she turns her head back over her shoulder to look at him.

Felicity is just about to ask William if they should take a look at the roboteer construction set he got, when her phone starts ringing.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I know we said no calls during Christmas morning and-”

She stops when she sees Quentin’s name blinking on the display of her phone. Usually, when Quentin calls, there is an emergency.

“Maybe you should take it,” William suggests. “It could be important.”

Felicity looks at William carefully. He looks nothing but honest, so she smiles apologetically. She goes a few steps away before she takes the call.

“Quentin, what’s going on?”

“Are you watching the news?”

“No,” Felicity replies, immediately knowing that something bad has happened. “We just finished unwrapping our Christmas gifts. Why? What’s going on?”

“According to the news, a new Throwing Star Killer abducted Judge Mercer. He demands to meet the Green Arrow in exchange for his life. I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t think it was serious.”

“Of course not,” Felicity replies. “Do we know where he wants to meet or who this guy is? I mean, he has to be a copycat. Adrian Chase is dead.”

Felicity shoots a quick look back over her shoulder to William. He is just looking up from the box of the roboteer construction set and smiles at Felicity. She smiles back quickly. The last thing she wants is for William to know that someone is imitating his mother’s killer.

“The police don’t know anything,” Quentin tells her.

Felicity nods. “Okay, we will take care of this. Thanks for calling.”

“Tell me if you need help.”

“I will. Oh, Quentin?”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s weird under these circumstances, but Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Felicity.”

Felicity hangs up and quickly pulls up the first news webpage she finds. Walking past the living room and smiling at William, she goes over to the kitchen where Oliver is stirring in the hot chocolate.

“Came here to supervise me?” he teases and bumps his hips against hers playfully. “Unlike you, I am quite experienced in the kitchen.”

“We have a problem,” Felicity whispers, holding her phone right under his nose. “Adrian Chase’s copycat is out making trouble.”

“I told him only to call me from now on.”

Oliver looks at her intently for a moment. When Felicity doesn’t reply because right now is just not the time to discuss Oliver’s choice of doing things alone, he takes the phone from her and skims the article she found.

“Where are we supposed to meet?” He asks.

“We don’t know, but I am sure he will let you know.”

Oliver switches off her phone and puts it to the counter. He shoots a look back over his shoulder to William, who is still busy with his gift, before he looks at her eventually. His eyes show how unsettled the news is making him.

“We do know that this can’t be Adrian Chase, so who is this?”

Felicity shrugs her shoulders. “We need to find out about that though, and-“

“Adrian Chase?”

Oliver and Felicity both turn around at the same time. William had dropped his gift and approached them. He is standing at the other side of the kitchen counter now, looking at them with fear in his eyes.

“He’s the guy who killed mom, right?”

Oliver goes around the kitchen counter quickly and puts his hands to William’s shoulder, looking at him intently. Felicity wraps her arms around herself almost like she is trying to hug herself and watches.

“This is just a copycat, William. Adrian Chase is dead.”

William frowns, unsure what he should believe, but he nods eventually. Oliver pulls him into his arms and hugs him. Felicity is just about to join them when there is a knock at the door. Oliver and Felicity exchange a brief look.

“You stay here,” he says to them “I’ll get it.”

Felicity steps towards William, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing comfortingly. William looks at her, confusion still written all over his face. Of course it is. How is a child supposed to understand any of this?

“I know it’s confusing,” Felicity tells him. “You need to trust your dad and me, though. This is only someone impersonating him. We don’t know who this person is or why he’s doing any of this, but we will figure this out.”

William nods and steps a little closer to Felicity, so he can wrap an arm around her back and rest his head against her. Felicity smiles, squeezing his shoulder once more.

A moment later, Oliver already comes back. He holds a white box in his hand that is wrapped with a large, red bow. He shoots Felicity an intent look, the kind of look he gave her before, when he cut off Malcolm Merlyn’s hand on that rooftop almost two years ago. Felicity nods, encouraging him to open the gift. It is their only choice.

“What is it?” William asks as soon as Oliver opens the box and, at least to Felicity’s surprise, the box hasn’t exploded in Oliver’s hands.

“It’s a throwing star,” Oliver replies and lifts the small metal between his fingers. “There is an address engraved.”

“We need to go to the bunker,” Felicity says immediately.

Oliver sucks in a deep breath, looking from Felicity to William and to Felicity again. She knows the kind of expression on his face, the expression that shows how disappointed and angry he is that his plans for a normal Christmas morning have been ruined. There is also no doubt that he knows they don‘t have a choice. Saving the city does not allow them to have days off for holidays, and they have to be grateful for the few hours they had this morning.

If he considers asking her to stay home because he will do things alone from now on, he is smart enough not to actually ask her to do so. He wouldn’t have stood a chance because no way is Felicity going to stay here as long as someone out there pretends to be the Throwing Star Killer and actually drops a hint right at their door. Whoever this copycat is knows that Oliver is the Green Arrow, and it is a dangerous knowledge.

“Yeah,” Oliver says eventually. “We have go to the bunker.”

* * *

Smiling, Thea strolls towards the office. Now that Dawn and Cody have left and the Christmas party is still in full swing, it seems like the right time to wrap the gifts she bought for them as her personal friends. The gifts they have received before have just been the gifts Thea bought for them in the name of Hope House.

Thea loves giving presents to people, especially to those who aren’t used to receiving anything like it is the case for Dawn and Cody. If today had showed her anything, it was that and-

Thea’s thoughts come to a sudden stop as soon as she unlocks the door. Instead of finding the office empty, a slim figure dressed in black leather is leaning over the cabinet and looking through it.

“Hey!” Thea says loudly. “What the hell are you-“

Once again, she stops. With a quick movement that makes her hair sway from one shoulder to the other, the person turns towards her. There is a wicked smile on her lips, the smile that proves that she is nothing like the person who looked exactly like her and was a dear friend to Thea.

“Black Siren.”

“You could just call me Dinah, you know?” she says, cocking her head and playing with a strand of her blonde hair, then raises a menacing eyebrow. “Or maybe Laurel.”

Thea hesitates for just a second. She might not have let Speedy show often these past months, but her vigilante alter ego is still living inside of her. She goes at Black Siren, ready to fight her. Before she reaches the woman, who uses the identity of her friend to confuse Quentin, her, and everyone around them, Black Siren already hurls her cry at her. The soundwaves toss her backwards against the wall. Her head bumps against it so firmly that Thea almost feels like her head is exploding.

She isn’t sure if she passed out for a couple of seconds or if her head just hasn’t been able to process what happened around her. Either way, the next thing Thea sees is that Black Siren pushes something into the small bag she is carrying and walks to the window. She turns back around to her, lifting her hand into a bored wave.

“Bye, bye, Speedy,” she says. “Oh, and Merry Christmas, of course.”

With a groan, Thea puts her hands onto the floor and props herself up until she is in a sitting position. She knows she needs to follow Black Siren and check on what she stole. She needs to get back in the custody of Barry Allen’s prison or of A.R.G.U.S. Unfortunately, her headache makes it impossible to get up on her feet without feeling like she is about to throw up.

Thea lifts her gaze to the window where she last saw Black Siren, but of course she is already gone.

* * *

Her fingers are dancing over the keyboard with ease. The rattling sounds like music in Felicity’s ears. It is nothing like the warm Christmas music they were listening to at home, but, at least to Felicity, it sounds just as fine tuned.

“Do you have the location?”

Felicity shoots a brief look back over her shoulder. Oliver stands right behind her chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyes focused on the monitors of her computer. She smiles at him, trying to comfort him over their messed-up plans, but Oliver is too focused. He changed into his leathers the moment they stepped into the bunker. Now, he is just waiting for her to tell him where to go. It is probably best to get over with this quickly, so they can get back to celebrating their first Christmas together. The bunker is just not the right place for it.

“I do,” Felicity says. “It’s a disused psychiatric facility, Starling Asylum.”

“I didn’t even know Starling had a such a thing,” Oliver says, his frown deepening.

“It was closed in the 1970s because there were reports of many of their patients being abused. At first, they weren’t taken seriously, but in the end, the clinic was finally closed. The people responsible avoided any punishment and built a new clinic near Gotham City, the Arkham Asylum. But now there is a responsible director heading it, and it’s turned into a good clinic. Batman is helping to keep them busy. Anyway, though there were never any plans to revive Starling Asylum, it was never knocked down.”

“Nobody’s allowed to enter the terrain.” Says a voice behind them.

Felicity and Oliver both turn their heads towards the conference table with surprise. William is sitting there with the box of his roboteer construction game in front of him. Oliver suggested that he should take it with him, so he had something to busy himself down here at the bunker. He still hadn’t touched it since they have arrived. Felicity guesses that Adrian Chase and the terrible things he did to William are still going through his head.

“You know the clinic?”

William shrugs his shoulders. “A few guys in ninth grade met there on Halloween. They say it’s haunted, so they test their courage by seeing how close they can get to it or how long they stay inside. It always seem to be very spooky to me.”

Oliver nods. “Thanks, William.”

William smiles briefly and turns to his game. Felicity doubts that he will even start putting the roboteer together today. She cannot hold it against him. If the day had taken a different turn and everything had worked out the way they had planned, he might have put it all together by the end of the day.

“I will go there,” Oliver says, back to being completely focused on the map on the monitor. “Alone.” He emphasizes the last word.

He obviously doesn’t want any discussion about this, which doesn’t sit well with Felicity. She understands his reasons for why he thinks it is better to set the team free. She just doesn’t agree with them, and they both know it would have to eventually be discussed. Doing things alone would affect the lives of every team member, including his. He did things alone when he started this mission, so she trusts his abilities, but it hadn’t lasted like that for long, and Oliver didn’t have a wife and a child at that time. Now, things were different.

With William sitting right there and being reminded of his mother’s death, Felicity knows this isn't the time or place to talk about this with Oliver. William doesn’t need a reminder of how close to death his dad is whenever he leaves the bunker as the Green Arrow. One wrong move and William also loses his father.

“You have no other choice anyway,” Felicity says with a sigh. “John is out of town to visit his in-laws. He said he needed some time to recover. Rene has to take care of Zoe, and the rest of the team is helping Thea at Hope House. She was attacked by Black Siren.”

“She what?”

Felicity turns around to Oliver quickly. Worry is visible on his face. His fingers are rubbing together in the nervous tick she noticed on him so many times before. She even caught herself adapting it from time to time in the last years.

“It’s not that bad,” Felicity assures him, taking his hand and lacing her fingers with his. “Thea’s fine except for a little bruise at her head. She promised me to let a doctor take a look at it. It’s just that Black Siren stole something, and Thea must find out what it is and how to get it back. Don’t let that distract you.”

Oliver takes in a deep breath, looking at Felicity intently. She knows that he can see the worry in her eyes or at least she hopes so. If he continued to do this alone, he should at least know that she was dying a thousand deaths every time he left. She needs him to be even more focused than he used to be.

“Nothing will distract me,” Oliver promises, squeezing her fingers. “I will go in there, free Mercer, find out who this Throwing Star Killer is and be back with you guys as soon as possible. Then we can continue celebrating the holidays.”

Felicity nods slowly, shooting him a half-hearted smile. Oliver puts his fingers under her chin and lifts her face. He brushes his lips against Felicity’s, making her sigh and she squeezes his fingers. When their lips part, they smile at each other briefly.

Staying at her computers, Felicity watches Oliver saying goodbye to William. She reminds herself to breathe slowly and evenly, taking in deep breaths and holding the air in her lungs for a moment before releasing it. Of all the criminals in the world or even just in Star City, of course the first time Oliver goes out into the field alone again, he must face a copycat of Adrian Chase. Chase got under Oliver’s skin before, and Felicity fears that whoever this copycat is will rip open old wounds.

* * *

“What is Black Siren doing with files of the people working here?” Curtis asks. “I kind of doubt that she wants to figure out what it takes to be a good person by caring for others.”

Thea shrugs her shoulders, pressing the cooling pack to the back of her head. She had turned everything in the office upside down twice, and all that was missing were eight files of employees of Hope House. God knows what Black Siren was planning on doing now.

“Since we don’t know what she’s going to do, I guess it’s best to check the families of these employees and make sure they are alright,” Dinah suggests. “Maybe she’s just in the mood to hurt people that are part of Thea’s life. She likes wreaking havoc.”

“Hey,” Quentin replies. Though his voice is gentle, there is a reproach in his voice. “She’s not that bad.”

Curtis looks at Quentin incredulously, while Dinah crosses her arms in front of her chest. Thea just looks at Quentin.

She feels sorry for him. She knows how much the death of Laurel hurt him. She was there for him when he tried to find comfort in alcohol, and for awhile they were really close. Thea doesn’t know when or why it stopped. They still get along great, but she knows that she doesn’t have the same good influence on him that she used to have. Now, there is nothing she can say to him that will convince him that Black Siren is not their friend and not their Laurel.

“Quentin, she is working against us,” Dinah says. “She stole something and attacked Thea. And those are two of the much less horrible things she has done.”

“She is scared,” Quentin replies, shaking his head. “She isn’t used to people treating her with kindness or showing her the life she could have. She needs someone to save her.”

"Hard to do that when she is trying to kill us." Curtis says from the corner of Thea's office.”

Quentin shoots him an angry glare, and Curtis quickly lifts his hands in innocence. Thea bites back her agreement with Curtis.

“Dinah is right,” she just says instead. “We need to check on those families and make sure they are alright. There must be a reason Black Siren stole those files. If she was really just looking for new victims, we have to stop her.”

“Even if she was just breaking in here and stole those files to mess with us, we have to find her,” Dinah says. “It’s time for Black Siren to go back to her earth.”

Thea can see the disagreement in Quentin’s face, but she doesn’t say anything about it. They will check on those families, find Black Siren, and send her back to her earth, once and for all. After that, Thea will make sure that Quentin understands why that is the only right thing to do here.

* * *

Quentin sighs when the door falls shut behind him and sends a quick text to Dinah, letting her know that one family is alright and he is heading to the next one on the list now.

He doesn’t know what Black Siren is planning to do, but Quentin refused to believe that she is just looking for victims to scare, torture or even kill. Dinah and Curtis just don’t have the best opinion of her because they don’t see that Black Siren only kills when she is scared or sees an enemy in her opponent. She might have trouble to see who her enemy is and who isn’t, but he feels that she doesn’t just kill for fun. He refuses to believe that.

Just when Quentin is about to go downstairs and leave the apartment house, he hears Black Siren’s cry from the roof. Without hesitating, Quentin runs upstairs, always taking two steps at a time. He needs to get to Black Siren before anyone else does and sends her back to her earth where she can be left to her own devices and just being herself away from harming anyone around her.

Quentin stops in front of the door to the roof and pulls out a little device that would hamper her sonic cry. Curtis had given it to him, so Black Siren couldn’t attack him the way she attacked Thea at Hope House. He hopes that it won’t be necessary, but he knows that she doesn’t trust him, at least not yet.

Taking in a deep breath, Quentin draws his gun and pushes through the door. Black Siren is standing at the other edge of the roof. She looks like she used her cry to toss some scattered pieces of building material around. That might be something she is indeed doing for fun. Quentin watches her intently, his gun pointed at her.

Slowly, Black Siren lifts her gaze and turns around to him. She smiles at him. There is a little wickedness in her eyes, and still Quentin can see his Laurel shining through there somewhere. The thought sneaks into his thoughts, and he feels his hand starting to tremble like it did the first time he pointed a gun at Black Siren.

“You won’t shoot me, will you?”

Her smile or rather grin widens when she approached him. Quentin backs away. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself. In his head, the plan he made while running upstairs, had sounded so great and easy. Thinking about it now, he’s no longer sure he is ready to go through with it.

“You wouldn’t want to hurt me, Daddy.”

The last thing he wants to do is hurt her. He is sure that she has been hurt a lot of times before. Fathers are supposed to die before their children, so he wonders if the pain of losing your father matches the one of losing your daughter. For himself, he knows losing Sara and Laurel had been a thousand times worse than losing his own father. He was a lot older when his father died than this Laurel was when her own father died.

“Of course you won’t shoot.” Black Siren lets out a scoff of loud laughter. “You would have done everything to save your gorgeous Laurel, but you couldn’t save her and-”

The shot echoing through the quiet makes Black Siren stop. Her eyes fill with confusion and shock as she looks down at her body. With the black leather gear, she is wearing, there isn’t any blood to be seen, but Quentin is sure that the pain tells her exactly where his bullet hit her. Quentin’s heart is beating wildly and he holds his breath while he watches her. The shot continues ringing in his ears.

Black Siren sinks down on her knees and her chest slumps back. She is breathing heavily, staring at the sky. Quentin takes in a deep breath and puts his gun away. With three quick steps he is at her side and kneels there, holding her hand.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her soothingly. “It’s just the panic. The bullet wound is not that bad. You will lose consciousness, but it will all be okay. I have experience with this. The sooner you relax and stop fighting it, the better.”

Black Siren doesn’t look like she is going to relax. Quentin doubts that she is used to this either. She's the kind of person who will always put up a fight no matter what the circumstance is.He can see it in the feisty expression in her eyes.

“Do you think that’s what good fathers do?” she asks him, pressing the words out between her clenched jaw.

“You mean protecting their children from doing things they will regret or get them onto the wrong path that will take them far away from their family?” Quentin asks. “Then, yes, I do consider that part of what good fathers should do.”

Quentin can’t say what he sees in her eyes. Maybe it is the will to fight or maybe it is a glimpse of understanding of how far he will go to save her. He doesn’t get a chance to decide which one it is though, because Black Siren’s eyes are falling shut.

Releasing a quiet sigh, Quentin squeezes her fingers and brushes a strand of her hair out of her face. He feels his heart ache for her, given what he did to her, but he knows it was the only thing he could have done. The moment he shot at her will haunt him in nightmares to come, but knowing he has a chance to save Black Siren now would soothe him upon waking up.

Maybe a good first step would be to start calling her Laurel from now on.

* * *

The ride through the city, though calming as taking a ride on his motorcycle normally was, only served to increase Oliver's regret. No matter how hard he tries to offer people around him, especially William, a normal life, his plan never seems to work. This life is always pulling him back in at the worst time possible and it will always be that way.

Oliver pushes that thought away. He promised Felicity that nothing will distract him, and he aims to keep that promise.

He focuses on his surroundings instead. The psychiatric facility is indeed far outside of the city, surrounded by forest, as he saw on the map. He hadn't realized how the thick the forest is either. how thick the forest is either. It is still the middle of the day, but around him, it is almost as dark as if it is already the middle of the night. He isn’t surprised that people say it is haunted.

It is so secluded that even the connection over the comms is broken off by now. Maybe someone is using an interfering transmitter though to make sure he doesn’t have any backup or the backup is at least difficult to contact.

Oliver stops his motorcycle outside the high fence that cordons the terrain or the disused facility. He climbs the fence easily and jumps down on the other side. He draws his bow, holding it safely in his left hand before he takes the first steps towards the lonely building.

It looks like the kind of psychiatric hospital you see in horror movies. The walls which probably once used to be white, are now grimy and covered in graffiti. Where there isn’t any graffiti, thick ivy is climbing up the stones to the ramshackle-looking roof. The small stairs that lead towards the iron door are brittle and crumbling. The door is covered with rust and sits askew in the hinges. It stands slightly ajar, allowing a small ray of light to fall onto the stairs.

Tightening his hold on the bow, he looks around. It looks like they are alone if Oliver can trust the impression of what he can see here. He isn’t surprised. If this copycat is indeed following the example Adrian Chase set, he will seek confrontation with Oliver alone. Adrian has worked with other people, but he always wanted to fight Oliver alone.

When Oliver arrives at the door, he draws an arrow from his quiver. He pushes the door open with his foot and jumps inside, ready to shoot at whoever may try to fight him. There is nobody there though and even if there had been, Oliver isn’t sure if he’d have noticed. The sight of the room before him arrests his steps.

Dark wood panels cover the walls and the ceiling. A blue carpet is construed on the floor and leads upstairs over the flights of stairs to both sides of the door. The room is sparsely furnished. There are just a couple of old, crème-colored armchairs, two dressers with small lamps on them and a round table in the middle of the room where a bouquet of pink roses and a handful of photos are placed.

It looks exactly like the foyer of the mansion he grew up in, the same one that burnt down years ago.

A strangled breath leaves Oliver’s lips, and he swallows down hard to get his breathing back under control. Despite his instinct, Oliver lowers his bow and looks around the room more carefully. He is unable not do so. He thought he had lost this place forever and now having it back, Oliver feels...he doesn't even have a word for what he feels.

God, there were so many memories, good and bad, that connected to the place he grew up in. He remembers the times his father came home from business trips when Oliver was still a kid. He would run into his arms and ask him all about where he had gone, dreaming of going to those same places someday. His dad would chuckle and kiss his cheek, promising that one day he would go to all those important business meetings and see the world like his daddy always did. Oliver had then asked his father if he could wear his suit jacket and proudly carried his briefcase to the living room, so he could play businessman.

As the years past, Oliver changed. He no longer had any interest in being anything like his father. Instead, he wanted to go out to party with Tommy and live a life free of any responsibility. He couldn’t count how many times he snuck down those grand hall stairs and out of the door to escape the oppressing walls  of his home and go to the next party. A lot of times, Thea followed him. She would sit on the topmost stair and watch him. When he would see her there, he’d wink at her and put his finger on his lips in a request for her to stay quiet about his little trip, and Thea, being the good sister she was, had smiled at him and run back into her bed. She had never betrayed him.

Memories of the day he stepped back into the mansion, coming home after five years of getting lost in the ocean and five years of becoming someone else. Something else.

It feels surreal to be here and seeing this place that reminds him so much of who he used to be before the Gambit went down. So many people and so many places he connects with that person he was are gone now, and standing here is doing things to him. It feels like this place was causing his heart to jump out of his chest and run away.

The moment Oliver senses the movement to his right, he draws back his bow and aims his arrow at the direction of the movement. His eyes widen slightly when he sees the person in black gear stepping out of the shadows with a huge grin on his face.

“Hi, Ollie,” he says. “Long time no see.”

Oliver needs three seconds to get over the fact that someone who looks exactly like Adrian Chase, the man who tortured him for days and the man who killed his son’s mother, is standing right in front of him. He straightens up slightly and adjusts the aim of his arrow.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, come on, Ollie,” he replies and lets out a dry chuckle. “You can’t forget me. We spent so many hours together. I showed you who you really were, and you told me your darkest secret.”

Oliver feels his heart clench. He remembers telling him- no, he remembered telling Adrian Chase that he wanted to kill and that he liked it. Felicity convinced him that it had just been the effects of the torture, and he still believes that, at least mostly.

“Adrian Chase is dead.”

“Oh, am I?” The man hums. “I doubt it.”

“Adrian Chase killed himself in front of my eyes and in front of the eyes of my son. He is dead.”

Oliver isn’t sure if he’s saying it for the man standing in front of him, or more for himself. Seeing this man here confuses him.

“I will always live on, Ollie. Don’t you know that by now?” The man laughs out, throwing his head back and holding his hands on his stomach. “I will always live on in your head. The doubts I seeded will never disappear again. You know that your family and your friends are better off without you.”

“They are not better off without me,” Oliver replies, shaking his head. “They are better off without a life like this, a life where people like you pop up and try to destroy everything good people have built.”

Oliver doesn’t know why he is discussing this instead of just firing an arrow at him, igniting a fight. It would be much easier than to listen to what this lookalike of Adrian Chase is saying to him.

“I knew you were putting it some other way. Why would you agree to take care of little, innocent William and decide to get married to smart, defenseless Felicity Smoak if you believed that your life will taint their happiness until none of it is left. Well, you are starting to see it again though, aren’t you? You are starting to see again why it is better to keep people out of your life. Why else fire them? We both know people like I will always find people like you, whether they run around in masks or not.”

Oliver doesn’t reply. Firing them is not about the darkness surrounding him. Everyone on the team has their own darkness. He isn’t the only one. He is protecting them from letting that darkness consume them by neglecting their lives outside their masks like Oliver did for way too long. He is protecting them from making the same mistakes he made, not from himself.

“It’s a good thing you fired them, though.” The man winks. “Between you and I, the farther they are away from you, the greater the chances that I won’t kill them. Now, if you just give up your family, your Green Arrow identity and the city, we can just go separate ways without anyone getting hurt. It would be the most productive days since I drove all the way to that little town where Samantha and William were hiding to take them to the island and-“

“Adrian Chase is dead,” Oliver repeats firmly, now definitely needing to convince himself that this was true. “So who the hell are you?”

The lookalike cocks his head, his grin widening. “I am sure you will find out if you just think about it a little.”

Oliver has probably known before. A lookalike like this does not exist on this earth. He is sure of that. Even if Adrian had a twin brother, he wouldn’t look this alike or talk this alike or even move this alike. He has done all those things just like the Adrian Chase Oliver knew, the Adrian Chase he watched die, so there is only one explanation.

“What earth do you come from?”

“Earth Two,” Adrian – for the lack of a better name – replies. “It’s a wonderful earth though. I hate to break it to you, but you are dead.”

Gasping for breath, Adrian slaps his hand in front of his mouth like he is shocked about his words. When he lowers his hand, he is laughing amusedly though. It is the same dry laugh as before, the laugh of someone who has lost his mind.

Oliver can’t say how many times he has told Quentin that Black Siren is nothing like Laurel. They look similar in a lot of ways, and they carry the same name. That is it when it came to similarities between their Laurel and the Laurel of Earth Two. With Adrian Chase, Oliver gets the bad feeling that it is different though.

“You know, I know your daddy.”

Adrian goes up and down in the room slowly, obviously not bothered by the arrow pointed at him. He keeps his hands in front of him, holding his bow in his left hand just like Oliver does.

“We had a similar disagreement like you and my counterpart here had. I learned a lot about the Adrian Chase you knew, and I am sure I can learn some things from him. He killed your son’s mother. Well, well, killing the good, old Moira Queen would be fun. Or maybe I will kill Speedy instead. Mommy is going to bite the dust sooner or later anyway. Hey, I am sure your counterpart on my earth knocked up some girl too. I am sure I can find her and kill the kid, or maybe I even find our beautiful Felicity Smoak and make her scream your name in panic. Well, or maybe I make her scream my name and-“

Finally, whatever state of shock Oliver was in since he saw Adrian or maybe since he stepped into this room passed. He lets go of the arrow, shooting it at Adrian, who uses one of his throwing stars to fend it off.

After this short opening, they both go at each other. Their bows clatter together loudly. Adrian tries to launch a kick into Oliver’s chest, but he hooks his arm around his opponent’s ankle and twists it. The movement causes Adrian to lose his footing and sends him to the floor. He recovers quickly and gets back on his feet.

“Come on, Ollie, that can’t be all you’ve got.”

“It isn’t,” Oliver growls. “Trust me.”

His anger at everything this version of Adrian just said to him and everything that other version of Adrian did to him, is consuming him. Oliver knows he wouldn’t rest until this version of Adrian is down even if he wouldn’t kill him. He would never kill again.

Oliver jumps over the small chair in the middle of the room towards where Adrian is standing. He kicks him in the chest, causing Adrian to go back down again. He manages to get back on his knees before Oliver can attack him again. Oliver kicks his foot in the direction of his head. He fails the first time, but he quickly swirls around himself and tries again. This time, he succeeds. Adrian holds onto his leg and causes Oliver to land on the floor next.

Adrian stands over him, trying to land a hit on him, but Oliver rolls away from him. He gets up on his feet and, in crouched position, avoids another one of Adrian’s hits. Their bows clatter together loudly once more before Adrian punches him in the stomach. He tries to repeat the movement, but Oliver hits his bow onto his arm and lifts his knee, ramming it right under Adrien’s chest.

The fight continues, and Oliver’s body moves almost of its own accord. His muscles don’t need to be controlled by his head. They just move the way they have learned from years of brutal and merciless training. It is like a well-choreographed dance.

Soon, Oliver manages to kick the bow out of Adrian’s hand. He is surprised enough to be uncareful for the break of a second, and it allows Oliver to hit his bow against Adrian’s chest and send him tumbling back onto the floor. Without a beat of hesitation, Oliver kicks his foot against Adrian’s head with much more force than probably necessary and knocks him out.

Breathing heavily, Oliver looks at the unconscious Adrian. Taking care of William and getting his life back under control after the scattered pieces Adrian left him with almost made him forget how much he hates this man. There is a part of him, a not so small part actually, that wants to kill him slowly and painfully.

Oliver is still looking at him, considering what to do, when someone applauds. Drawing a bow, Oliver turns around quickly. He points the bow at the figure in the shadows at the top of the stairs.

“Congratulations, Oliver,” the man says with soft voice, stepping out of the shadow and leaning his forearms onto the banister. “Now, I guess it’s time to talk.”

* * *

“Hey, we can watch a movie if you want to,” Felicity suggests and gestures over to the large screen at the other side of the conference table where she usually presents results of her work. “It’s going to be like at the movies.”

William scrunches up his nose, which is probably answer enough as it is. The way he perks up his eyebrows just adds to it.

“I am just not in the mood,” he says, his voice small. “Sorry.”

Felicity sighs, sitting down on the chair next to him and watching him quietly. He has barely moved since Oliver left. He just sat there and stared at his hands or at his knees or wherever else he was able to look with lowered head. She wishes there is something she can do to comfort him, but she doubts she can say much, especially when her tries at comforting him are just as weak as her tries at distracting him.

Felicity shoots a brief look at her watch. It has been ten minutes since she lost the connection to Oliver. She knows that she doesn’t have to worry about him. Even during his first week back, he fought over a dozen trained men at once. Since then, his experience has continued to grow, so she knows he can take care of himself, but she would feel much better as soon as she could hear what is going on.

“Don’t you usually stay at the computers and, I don’t know, do stuff there?”

“Yeah,” Felicity says, “but the connection broke, so there really isn’t anything I can do.”

William shoots a look towards the computers nervously. When he looks back at Felicity again, his frown has deepened. The expression in his eyes is full of worry.

“That’s a bad sign, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily,” Felicity replies, nodding slowly to make sure that she is serious. “The facility is quite out of town, so maybe there is a poor signal, or maybe whoever ordered your dad there is messing with the signal because he doesn’t want your dad to use the comms. It’s okay though. Your dad can protect himself.”

Just in case, she is plans to send Dinah and Curtis after him if he doesn’t get back in touch with her in the next fifteen minutes. They would probably fight about that later, but Felicity would rather fight with him than plan his funeral. The thought made her stomach twist so painfully that she had to suck in a deep breath.

“You are nervous though?”

“Why would you think that?”

It is a stupid question. She is nervous, and she isn’t ashamed to admit so. She is actually sure that it is better to be honest with William because lying to him and telling him that everything is going to be alright is just not right. Felicity hopes everything is going to be alright, but she can’t say so with certainty.

“You are doing that thing with your fingers that dad usually does when he is nervous.”

Felicity lowers her gaze to her fingers to see that they are indeed rubbing together. She hasn’t even noticed. With a quiet smile, she spreads her fingers and forms her hand to a fist instead.

“You know your father pretty well by now.”

William shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe.”

Felicity smiles and would have probably added something more if her phone hadn’t rung right then. She quickly gets up on her feet and almost runs over to where she has left her phone next to the computers.

“Is it dad?”

A disappointed sigh falls from her lips when she sees Thea’s name on the display. More important than her disappointment is the worry she feels at her disappointment. Until now, she hasn’t even known how worried she really is. She has no idea how this is supposed to work if she isn’t even in the bunker anymore while Oliver is out there.

“No, it’s Aunt Thea,” Felicity replies and takes the call. “Hey. Did you find Black Siren?”

“No,” Thea replies with a sigh. “She just stole some files from Hope House without any reason and disappeared. I don’t know. We will cancel the search now, so everyone gets to enjoy a little bit of Christmas Day. Well, Quentin, Curtis and I will. Dinah doesn’t have any plans and will just continue watching over the city. I know Ollie fired her, but he can’t really stop her when she just keeps her eyes open, right? Anyway, can I come over already?”

“You have to come to the bunker though.”

“Right, Quentin mentioned the abduction,” Thea says. “How’s it going?”

“Not good,” Felicity replies quietly, hoping William wouldn’t hear her. “Can you tell Dinah to stay available in case I need her? The connection of the comms broke, so I haven’t heard from your brother in awhile. If he doesn’t call me soon, I will send Dinah after him.”

“I will tell her,” Thea says. “Do you think something happened to Ollie?”

“I certainly hope not,” Felicity says. “I don’t even think it did. I just want to be careful.”

“Of course. I will be there in ten minutes.”

“Great. See you.”

“See you.”

Felicity puts her phone away, frowning slightly. Maybe it is just the fact that she isn’t in contact with Oliver right now or maybe it is just because a copycat of the Throwing Star Killer is just destined to make her worry, but all of this feels suspicious to Felicity. Black Siren has stolen useless files from Hope House, keeping Quentin, Thea, Dinah and Curtis busy while a copycat of the Throwing Star Killer that she actually worked for demands to meet Oliver. It is suspicious, right?

Felicity sits down at her computers and quickly lets her fingers dance over the keyboard once more. The attempt of reestablishing the connection over the comms fails. The attempt to locate Oliver comes back without any result. Nothing works, and Felicity doesn’t know what to do.

She looks down at the platinum ring on her left finger and lifts it to her lips, sending a short prayer to heaven that Oliver is okay and coming back to her safely.

* * *

The arrow still pointed at the man at the head of the stairs, Oliver narrows his eyes slightly. His face is still in the shadows, so Oliver can’t see him clearly. The voice is familiar to him. He has heard it before.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you to come here today,” the man says, his voice still as soft as before. “It’s a family day though, so I thought it was very fitting. Right, Oliver?”

The man shifts slightly, his arms still casually resting on the handrail of the stairs. His face is now in the small ray of light that comes in through a window nearby.

“Darren McKnight.”

Oliver has a good memory for faces and names. He needs to remember them as mayor as much as he needs to remember them as the Green Arrow. Remembering names and faces allows him to categorize people into enemies, friends and whatever is in between more quickly.

Darren McKnight has been categorized to something in between, maybe with a small tendency towards enemy because Felicity had been obviously been smitten by his good looks. It was more of a joke just for him though. Darren McKnight was not really considered a threat of any kind to him. Though just the fact that he is here now, lets Oliver reconsider that assessment.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to meet an old friend of yours,” McKnight says, nodding towards the still unconscious Adrian. “Let’s just say it was one of the many gifts I have in store for you today. By the way, do you like the location? I thought we should call back to old times. This is where it all started, wasn’t it? The first time we met. Well, at least it’s close to it, like so many of my gifts are just so close to our roots and yet a little different.”

Oliver frowns. The first time he met McKnight was a couple of weeks ago during a fundraiser. It had nothing to do with the Queen Mansion, and there haven’t been any roots they shared previously. Oliver draws the bow back just a little bit more.

His frown deepens, and he shoots a look back over his shoulder to where Adrian is still lying unconsciously. Suddenly, Oliver starts connecting the events of today with what has happened over the last weeks. He received a throwing star, a reminder of Adrian Chase, without any seemingly apparent threat. Now the Earth Two counterpart of Adrian Chase just started a fight out of nowhere and the man whose family had been killed by Ghosts appears, indicating that he was the mastermind behind all of this.

“I am the Master, the master _mind_ behind everything bad that has happened to you lately and will happen to you in the near future.”

McKnight laughs, clapping his hands once more. When Oliver adjusts his aim, ready to fire his arrow right into McKnight hands, sighs. With an almost annoyed expression on his face, he lifts his empty hands.

“See?” he says. “No weapons. There is no danger coming from me; at least, not right now.”

Oliver keeps the arrow pointed at him nonetheless. He has no reason to trust him, and he doubts that he will change his mind just because McKnight continues to look at him like the arrow pointed at him just annoys him. Oliver has faced too many seemingly unweaponed opponents who have suddenly thrown a knife or shot at him.

“Then what the hell do you want?” Oliver asks. “What is all of this about? About your wife and your children?”

McKnight puckers his lips, sitting down on the handrail with a sigh. He makes an expansive gesture.

“What is this all about? Now, that’s quite a story, and it starts decades before my wife and my kids were killed by Damien Darhk’s ghosts. You might want to sit down. This could be awhile.”

Oliver doesn't move though, staying right where he is.

“Well, I guess I should start with who I am,” McKnight replies, and there is an almost nostalgic smile on his lips if it isn’t for the wicked touch of it. “When I was born in 1973, it seemed like the life of my parents was finally perfect. They were a couple, madly in love with each other, and they had a child, a son even. What more could you wish for?”

Oliver has no idea where this is going or what this has to do with why he is using Adrian Chase against him, but he knows what McKnight means. He is married to a woman he is madly in love with, and they have a son that they raise together. It is perfect though Oliver does know what else he wishes for. He wants to buy a house, one that can make for a better and warmer home than the loft they are currently living in, and maybe a baby one day in the future when the time is right.

He quickly pushes his thoughts away. Now is not the time to think about the family life he dreams about.

“Anyway, I was soon found to have a high IQ. I was always the smartest kid in the room. I was even smarter than my parents and most other adults. My parents tried to suppress my brilliance and turning me into a normal kid, but I wasn’t normal. I was outstanding, extraordinary even. They bought my bicycles and skateboards and all the other stuff for average kids. I wasn’t interested in any of that. I was interested in science and experiments,” he continues. “Eventually, my parents realized that I would never be the kid they wanted and started neglecting me. They didn’t know what to do with me.”

“I am sorry your parents couldn’t see that you needed advanced developmental stimulation and education, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with me,” Oliver says with a low growl. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Why are you so impatient, Oliver?” McKnight asks. He clicks his tongue. “Do you have to be anywhere?”

Oliver doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t just shoot McKnight. He isn’t attacking him. He can’t just turn around and leave either. The Master is a threat to the city and apparently, now to him and his family too.

“By the time I was nine years old, my dad had turned into an alcoholic. He was deep in debt, so he agreed to assassinate the mayor. Of course he wasn’t smart enough to cover his tracks. He should have asked me, but he didn’t want to admit that his nine-year-old was smarter than him,” McKnight says, rolling his eyes. “So, he was arrested, and my mom lost her mind over it. She cried and screamed and destroyed the apartment until the neighbors eventually called the police. My mom was temporarily brought into a psych ward and I was put into child welfare.”

“What does all of this to do with me?”

“Pst,” McKnight hushes him angrily. He clears his throat before he continues, “I was passed around from one foster family to the next, but neither of them could handle my brilliancy. They wanted to take it away from me, afraid that I could overshadow them or the other stupid kids living with them. Eventually, I was sent to live in a children’s home here in Starling with more average kids and more average educators. Hey, you know the house. Your sister is working there right now.”

Oliver tenses slightly. They might be onto something now. At least this is the first connection to his family.

“There was some fundraiser at the house of the family who supported the house. Two kids were invited to be there, and I was one of them. I thought I would have to see more average people and was prepared for another torturously boring evening. At the first opportunity, I snuck upstairs into an office. There was the model of a new computer system, but it had some mistakes. I fixed it and was about to sneak back upstairs when the host caught me. He was different than anyone else. He saw my brilliance, and he didn’t want me to suppress it. He actually wanted me to stay with him and become a part of his family.”

Every muscle in Oliver’s body tenses. He remembers that his mother once mentioned that it took forever for her to get pregnant with him. She never mentioned a foster child, though. Still, there is a tiny part of Oliver that isn’t surprised about this news, a tiny part that actually feels reminded of something, but he can’t say what it is.

“Now, this family was exactly what I needed and exactly what I deserved. They were both very loving and, unlike everyone else, they didn’t try to make me average, just so I didn’t outshine them. No, they were proud of my intelligence and supported it.”

There had been a thunderstorm, a terrible thunderstorm, much worse than the thunderstorms Oliver was used to. He was ten years old maybe, definitely too old to be afraid of thunderstorms, but he was afraid that night. He hid under his blanket, trying to tell himself that it really wasn’t that bad.

“He took me to his company, showed me what he was working on and let me experiment myself. She was a treasure, introducing me to all of her friends and telling them how great I will be one day. It was all working out so great that they asked me if I wanted to be adopted eventually.”

Eventually, he figured that if he was so scared, his baby sister would be even more scared. He was a big boy, while she was just this tiny little thing. Oliver decided to sneak out of bed and into Thea’s nursery, so he could give her some comfort.

“I had been with them for half a year when my new mom and dad called me to the living room and told me that mom was going to have a baby now.” His voice sounds angry now, and his hands are gripping onto the handrail of the stairs so tightly that his knuckles are white. “They said nothing was going to change about the way they felt about me. I was still part of the family and they would still adopt me, but of course those were just words.”

Thea’s nursery was right next to his parents’ room. The door had been left ajar, so he heard his parents fighting. At least it sounded like a fight. Oliver crawled as close to the door as possible without getting caught. His father had been sad because Thea’s birth reminded him of what happened when Oliver had been a baby and that she should have two brothers and not just one. He had been a good boy. That is what his father had said. He had been a good boy, and they should have fought for him. They shouldn’t have sent him away just because it was easier.

“By the time their boy was born, they still hadn’t taken care of the adoption. I knew they were just buying time to make sure their boy would survive and not be a complete idiot, so he could take over the family’s company one day. He was the true heir to the family’s empire, and I was just someone who stumbled into their lives. I knew that nobody would be able to take over the empire as successfully as I could, so I knew I needed to get rid of the boy.”

_Robert, he tried to kill Oliver._

His mother’s words echoed through Oliver’s head again and again. There had been another loud clap of thunder, more like a bang than a rumble, and Oliver had jumped up and ran into his room. From that moment on, he hadn't been able to sleep without a nightlight in his room.

“And they just sent me away. They had a child, and I was sent back like an unloved wedding gift that you return!”

McKnight is screaming now, but Oliver just stares at him. He puts the pieces of what he just told him together with what he remembered. He stares at the man at the head of the stairs wordlessly. This is a man who had been his brother for a short time and the first man who tried to kill him, long before everything else happened.

“You tried to kill me when I was a baby,” Oliver growls. “You are crazy.”

“Oh, no, I am incredibly smart, and I knew you were going to let your family’s empire break down and turn to ashes. Guess what, Oliver, I was right.”

Oliver refuses to believe that. That Queen Consolidated has gotten lost might have been his fault because he has been busy with other things, but the company has been in good hands. Ray Palmer and Felicity were much more capable of leading the company successfully than he could have been. He lacked knowledge and, to his shame, interest in the company and what it did

Oliver’s voice is so low that it is barely audible when he asks once more, “What do you want?”

“Oh, I want what everyone in my position would want,” McKnight replies. “Revenge for the family I lost, the family you took from me.”

Oliver blinks an eye, McKnight suddenly disappearing. Tightening his hold on the bow, he hurries upstairs to where McKnight had just been seconds before. It takes him a moment to see that he is now standing one staircase above him. He grins triumphantly, and Oliver is already preparing himself to be attacked by his minions when a bright light appears downstairs in the hall, and a video is projected to one of the walls there.

“What is that?” Oliver asks.

“Oh, another one of my gifts,” McKnight replies. “Oh, Oliver, I am sure you weren’t expecting such a treat when I invited you here.”

Oliver continues to observe McKnight closely. He was just a child when he had been ready to kill a baby. This man was taking craziness to a completely new level and while Oliver doesn’t know what he is going to do with him, he knows that he can’t let him get out of here free. He is a threat to him and to his family.

From the corner of his eyes, Oliver watches the video. It’s only when two people that look terribly familiar to him appear in the video, he turns his eyes towards the video completely. He frowns, narrowing his eyes to look at the two people kneeling on the ground in the video more closely. There is a man, tall with hair in the color of salt-and-pepper. The woman is smaller, with blonde hair falling in soft waves and a little mole on her upper lip. They look like his parents except for the shape and color of their eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry,” McKnight says. “Those are not our actual parents. I did consider resurrecting them, but I felt I could kill two birds with one stone – real birds of course as that other bird was killed by Damien Darhk, who you were unable to stop.”

Oliver refuses to listen to him and focuses on the video instead. There is no sound to the video. It just shows these two people kneeling on the ground. They look scared. The woman is crying while the man just keeps his face down and shakes his head again and again. McKnight steps forward from behind the camera, raises the gun in his hand and fires a shot at the head of each one of the people. They sink to the ground, and the angle of the camera changes and stops.

Oliver looks at the face of the two people that look so similar to his parents. Blood is coming from their foreheads where the bullets hit them, and their lifeless eyes stare at him. The video stops at this close shot, and Oliver is unable to look away.

“I know it’s far from perfect, but our parents – or should I say your parents? – died before I got the chance to get my fingers on them. But, well, this was still quite satisfying. Besides, I will have more luck with my sister.”

He feels like all the pain of his parents’ death is coming back to him with force. Like a wave of the ocean, it pulls him from his feet and rips him away from the safe ground and onto the wild sea. He can almost hear the sound of the shot when his father killed himself, and he can almost hear Thea’s scream as Slade’s sword ran through their mother’s torso. All the pain and all the grief is back like he had just seen his parent dying for the first time.

With the pain and grief, Oliver’s anger returns, as well. He looks at McKnight, and, if he could, he would probably just kill him by looking at him.

“I will kill you.”

“Oh, you can,” McKnight replies lightly, “but I would reconsider your priorities right now.”

He gestures towards the projection, and Oliver hesitates. Eventually, he follows it though. The video switches to Adrian, who applies the camera to the front of his suit. Oliver doesn’t even need a second to see that he is right in front of the bunker.

His heart skips a beat before it starts racing in his chest. He leans over the handrail of the stairs, looking down to where the Earth Two version of Adrian Chase had been lying when he last looked. Now, the hall downstairs sits completely empty.

“The video is live by the way,” McKnight says. “You have the choice now, Oliver. You can kill me for killing these two people who look remotely like our – pardon, _your_ parents – or you can go and save the family that you still have. I am sure you want to spend a little bit more time with them before I kill them. All the money spent on that wedding reception and Christmas gifts would have been for nothing otherwise.”

Oliver doesn’t hesitate. He jumps down from the staircase into the hall. Running towards the door, Oliver shoots two arrows at McKnight, but he misses. He doesn’t have the time to look back and try shooting a third arrow.

He needs to get to the bunker as soon as possible or everything he loves and everything that makes his life worth living will be ripped away from him.

* * *

Felicity has trouble trying not to throw her keyboard at the monitors when the connection buildup fails once more.

“Still nothing?” Thea asks, hurrying towards her.

“Nothing,” Felicity says. “Tell me I am not crazy.”

“Well, Ollie can usually handle himself,” Thea says, “and after Black Siren’s completely pointless stealing today, I’d say there are good chances that this is all just a coincidence or whatever.”

Felicity looks at her doubtingly, but Thea shrugs her shoulders. She doesn’t look exactly sure about this either.

“You know what?” Felicity asks, lifting her hands in defeat. “I will just call Dinah now. This is getting out of hand.”

Felicity is already gripping her phone when her computer starts beeping alarmingly. She frowns worriedly, and her eyes widen at the sight of the alarm message that is blinking on the monitor.

“What is that?” William asks, covering his ears as the alarm echoes loudly all through the bunker.

“Someone is breaking in,” Felicity says.

“What?” Thea asks.

Quickly, Felicity calls up the video recordings of the camera outside of the backdoor. Her heart almost stumbles when she sees Adrian Chase standing in front of the door, using a small device to encrypt the code of the door.

It can’t be true. Adrian Chase is dead. He killed himself. He cannot be back. Of course Felicity has seen people coming back to life, but this just can’t be Adrian Chase and-

Snapping out of her thoughts, Felicity starts typing to double down on the security and make the door unable to open. Soon, she realizes that she reacted just a second too late. Chase’s device works against her successfully, not allowing her to barricade the door completely.

The moment she hears the door in the back of the lair open, she pushes hair chair away from the desk and runs towards the conference table. She tries grabbing Thea’s hand to pull her with her, but Thea pulls her arm away. Felicity doesn’t look back. She just runs towards where William is sitting and staring at her with wide eyes.

“Get down!”

She puts her hand to the back of his head and pressed down gently until William sinks down on the floor. An arrow hits the top of the table, and Felicity is sure it would have hit William if it had been fired two seconds before. Her heart is beating wildly, but Felicity pushes William under the table, hoping he would be safe there.

“Stay here,” she demands.

She is about to crawl away and push some of the chairs in front of the table to offer some additional safety, but William holds onto her hand. He looks at her with pleading eyes.

“Don’t go.”

Felicity looks back at the platform where Thea is fighting Adrian Chase. She hasn’t been in Speedy’s costume for quite some time, but Speedy is still slumbering inside of her. She had grabbed her old bow and Laurel’s old side-handle baton. She is fighting Chase with fierce power, but Felicity knows what Chase is capable off. She isn’t sure Thea can take him, not after she has been out of practice for so long.

“Stay here,” Felicity tells William once more. “Please.”

She knows it isn’t fair to him. Seeing Chase again has to be hard enough as it is. Leaving him alone isn’t fair. Felicity can’t stay down here with him though. If they have a chance to defeat him, it will only be if she and Thea work together. She can explain this to William once they are safe.

Pushing a chair in front of the table, Felicity gets up and runs to one of the roll cages. She opens the topmost drawer and grabs one of the explosive arrowheads Oliver stores there.

“Thea, watch out!”

Thea ducks away under one of the Chase’s hits. At Felicity’s words, she covers her head with her arms. Felicity uses that moment to throw the arrowhead at Chase. The small explosion shoves him backwards, giving Thea a moment to take the upper hand as she attacks him again.

Felicity runs over to one of the storage containers. She grabs a gun and a magazine, loads the weapon and releases the safety catch. She aims with one hand, but it is trembling so heavily that she has to use her left hand to secure her hold. She tries to recall what John taught her about firing a gun, but her head is spinning.

Helplessly, Felicity watches Chase pushing Thea into the computers. Without any hesitation, he turns around towards her. He looks her up and down for a moment before stalking towards her with large steps. Felicity fires the first shot, but she misses as her hands are still trembling terribly. She shoots again and again, but no shots hit him.

Felicity’s panic increases, and she glances past Chase to Thea, who seems to be struggling with the effects of clashing against the computers. If Felicity doesn’t stop Chase, nobody will. He will just get right to William like he planned to do when he abducted him and dragged him on that boat on Lian Yu.

The thought of what would happen to William if she didn’t stop him, allows her to take in the first deep breath she’s been able, since seeing Chase on the monitors. Her hands still just long enough for her to fire another shot. This time, at least, she hits his shoulder.

Chase stops, looking at his shoulder for a moment. Instead of being the slightest bit deterred, he just looks even angrier than before. Growling, he tightens his grip on the bow and continues stalking towards her. Felicity backs away, trying to fire more shots, but the magazine is empty. Her back hits the wall behind her as Chase backs her into a corner, and she throws the gun at him, but of course since the bullet hadn’t deterred him, neither does the gun.

An evil smile spreads on Chase’s lips as he says, “Such a pretty face and such a shame I will have to take the life from it.”

Chase’s hands are already reaching out for her neck when a pair of strong hands rip him away from her and hurl him across the room. Felicity releases a sigh of relief at seeing Oliver safely back in the bunker.

Well, maybe they aren’t completely safe yet, because Chase quickly gets back to his feet and is ready to fight again. Thea, who has overcome her shock, goes at Chase at the same moment Oliver does. While the two siblings fight the enemy, Felicity quickly runs back to the conference table.

“Are you okay?” she asks William.

He nods. “Are you?”

“Yes, I am-“

“Felicity!”

She quickly turns around, seeing that Oliver and Thea have pinned Chase down. He is struggling, trying to get out of their hold though.

“I’ll be right back.”

Felicity runs over to the med table, grabs a syringe with a narcotic they keep there just in case and hurries over to where Oliver and Thea are keeping Adrian pinned down. She injects him with the narcotic and watches him with a still wildly beating heart as he continues to struggling against the hands holding him down.

There are a thousand questions spinning in Felicity’s head, but she doesn’t ask any of them, at least not right now. Instead, she hurries over to where William is peeking out from under the conference table. She helps him get up and holds him tightly. From the distance, they watch Chase losing the struggle against the narcotic until his muscles tense completely and he slips into unconsciousness.

Oliver holds Chase down for a moment longer, making sure that he is really out. Only when Chase continues to stay unmoving, he lets go and steps several feet away from him. His eyes stay focused on him, but Felicity can see how unsettled he is. She understands that. She herself is already shocked at seeing Chase. For Oliver, who was tortured by him and who has seen him kill himself in front of his eyes, it has to be a thousand times worse.

Eventually, Oliver snaps out of his thoughts. His eyes lift to William and Felicity. The panic he must have been in seeing Chase attack them is written all over his face. With a few large steps he crosses the bunker and stands right in front of them. He wraps his strong arms around them, holding them as close as possible and kissing their heads.

“Are you okay?” he asks them, pushing them just enough away to look at them. “Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

He doesn’t even wait for their answer. He just pulls them back into their arms and kisses their heads once more. Felicity holds onto Oliver and William tightly. She doesn’t have much experience with celebrating Christmas, but she is sure that fearing the loss of your family isn’t part of the way normal people celebrate it.

* * *

His parents have had a child before him, one they certainly loved dearly but who turned into a threat to the rest of their family. It is probably the worst that can happen to a parent.

Despite what McKnight said to him, Oliver refuses to believe that his parents have gave up on him easily. Maybe the joy about having a baby shifted their priorities, and the adoption hadn’t been the most important thing to them anymore. They would have signed those papers once everything settled down with having a baby at home. Oliver is sure of that.

The child his parents loved and wanted to be their own had tried to kill a baby though. Even if it hadn’t been their baby, it is as just inexcusable. No brilliancy, no sad childhood apologizes away something like that, and no love allows parents to overlook something like that.

Had his father often been so hard on him because he wished he was more like the son he had lost? Had he wished for that son to return, so he could continue teaching him all about his empire?

“Hey.”

Oliver lifts his gaze, seeing Felicity approaching him slowly. She sits down on the step next to him and laces her fingers with his. Oliver watches their hands for a moment and lifts their linked fingers to his lips, so he can kiss the back of her hand and the platinum ring around her middle finger.

“Are you alright?” she asks him. “I mean not alright-alright. Obviously, you are not alright after what happened, but you, you know, alright?”

The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of Oliver’s lips. If there is something that is soothing to him, it is having Felicity here next to him babbling in her normal fashion. He squeezes her hand, grateful to have her here to have her okay.

“I’m not sure, Felicity,” he says. After a moment of thinking about it, he releases a sigh. “No, no, I am not alright.”

As hard as it is to say these words, Oliver is glad that he gets to say them. He needs this moment of calm to allow his thoughts to find some rest and his heart to ease its ache. Nothing is better for that than talking to Felicity.

After the first shock of the attack on his family passed, Oliver asked Thea to take William home. He contacted Lyla then, and she arranged for that Earth Two version of Adrian to be taken into ARGUS custody. Now they are safe from any version of Adrian, because the only one left is rotting in a cell of the ARGUS facility. Now, he has a moment just with Felicity.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Oliver whispers.

“Of course I am,” Felicity replies. “I am always here for you.”

Oliver smiles at her words, but he also feels a deep ache hearing them. Just the fact that Felicity would never let go of him would put her in great danger. He knew so before, and it wouldn’t change how he feels for her or about their marriage, but today served as a reminder for how much danger he is putting upon the people he loves just by loving him.

Groaning, Oliver rubs his hands over his face. He was at this point not even a year ago already, but he pushed past those problems. He is allowed to love, and he is allowed to have a family.

“Mercer is back with his family by the way. The door of the room he was locked in had a time lock, and he was left with enough money to take a bus home.”

Oliver nods slowly. He’s completely forgotten about Mercer to be honest.

“Did Dinah find out anything about the couple that was killed?”

Oliver had told Felicity about the video he had seen and about the people who were killed there. He remembered a quite extraordinary detail in the background, a small statue or something. Felicity, being the brilliant hacker that she is, needed less than one minute to find out where that statue was located. She had called Dinah and asked her to check.

“The couple was found,” Felicity says gently. “He name was Erica Branson and his was Joseph Keller. I have done a quick research on both of them. They have both worked for child welfare before they went missing in early July. Apparently, whoever abducted them, proceeded to do several plastic surgeries on them to change the bone structure of their faces.”

Oliver nods slowly. When they worked for child welfare, he is sure there is some more thorough connection to McKnight. After the so-called gifts he prepared for Oliver today, he doubts that the couple was just chosen arbitrarily.

“So, what link do they have to Chase?” Felicity asks quietly. “How did he get here?”

Oliver hesitates. He hasn’t told Felicity, Thea, and William anything except for the fact that the Adrian Chase they have seen tonight is from Earth Two. Now that Felicity is asking about the connection of this Chase and the current threats they have been facing, including the two dead bodies Oliver told her about, he doesn’t know what to say. He promised Felicity never to lie to her again, and he wants to keep that promise.

He won’t lie to her, but how can he tell her all that happened today?

“I will tell you everything,” Oliver says eventually and sighs, “just not now, please.”

Felicity frowns. “Oliver-“

“I- I understand that you want to know what happened. You deserve to know what happened. You need to know what happened,” Oliver says. “But right now, I need a few hours of rest and I think William needs us back home, which is even more important. We wanted to celebrate the holiday together, our first Christmas together, and it ended in this mess. William is scared, and he needs to know that his life isn’t falling apart again, so can we please talk about all of this later?”

He looks at Felicity intently, pleading with her to agree to his suggestion. He knows it isn’t fair to leave her in the dark, but he doesn’t have the strength to tell her everything that happened and then go back to their home and celebrate Christmas to help William overcome the trauma this day probably reawakened for him. William needs to be their priority right now.

Felicity hesitates, probably unsure if he means it, but Oliver can’t do more than promise. Eventually, she seems to come to the same conclusion.

“Fine,” she says. “We will talk about this tonight, but only because right now, William needs us.”

Oliver nods and brushes his lips against Felicity’s in a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

* * *

Without saying a word, Quentin watches Laurel regain consciousness. She opens her eyes, only to blink several times. Once her sight is probably no longer blurred, she looks around the room. Sooner than later her eyes find his, and she frowns. Holding onto the back of the couch, she sits up, groaning under the pain of the shot wound.

“Where am I?” she asks.

“Somewhere safe,” Quentin replies. “You can’t do any damage to anyone here, including yourself.”

For a brief moment, the feisty expression he connects with her, crosses her face. She takes in a deep breath, probably about to haul her cry at him. With a frown, she lifts her hands to her neck and lets her fingertips brush against the collar he put on her.

“There is a device attached to it that will make it unable to scream for you. You know that thing I guess.”

Laurel looks like she is about to snap, but she seems to change her mind rather quickly. She narrows her eyes and smiles at him coldly, cocking her head.

“So that’s your plan?” she challenges. “Keeping me here in this little cabin and hoping that I will magically turn into your gorgeous Laurel?”

“No,” Quentin replies, though he has to admit that he isn’t sure yet what his plan is or if he even has a plan to start with. “I know that you think you are irredeemable, but I refuse to believe that. I will show you the person that you can be?”

“Your gorgeous Laurel?”

“Dinah Laurel Lance,” Quentin says, “a real person and not this thing you have become. If you let Black Siren rest for a while, we can discover the person there is underneath, whoever that person is.”

“Maybe she is just a different kind of monster.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He has seen her having soft moments. She had asked whether his wrists were okay despite the handcuffs she had put him in when she abducted him in the name of Adrian Chase. She told him about her dad’s death and how deeply it affected her. He knows that the person she is beneath this hard shell is a good person.

“Will you still think the same if I tell you that everything I did today was just a ruse to make sure the team was busy with me, so the Master can launch his first big hit at Ollie?”

Quentin falters at her words. He had texted Dinah that he was busy at City Hall and had left Thea, Dinah and Curtis alone with the search for Laurel, not telling them that he had found her. Dinah had texted him a few hours ago that they stop searching for Laurel since they didn’t know where to look and there didn’t seem to be a pressing threat. At Laurel’s word, he wonders what happened with the whole thing about Mercer.

“You have been through a lot,” he replies flatly.

Laurel doesn’t seem to be happy with that answer. She clenches her jaws and looks at him with an angry frown.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks. “I am not your daughter.”

“One day you could be.”

“No, I won’t,” Laurel replies firmly. “I won’t ever be her. If you think it’s your task to save me because I share a name and a face with your daughter, I should tell you that your task would much rather be killing me. A father should make sure his dead daughter’s name will be remembered in the best way possible, so celebrate your little birdie as the damn angel she was as long as you can. I promise you, if you continue to annoy me with this redemption bullshit, I will continue to tear this city apart, and I will write Laurel’s name all over the wreckage. And I will enjoy it. What do you say now, _Daddy_?”

Quentin listened to her threatening whispers carefully. He can feel a stitch in his heart at her words. The thought that the memory Laurel has left would be destroyed by the damage this version of Laurel could cause, scared him.

He remembers that Laurel once told him that it wasn’t his task to protect Sara from the consequences of her mistakes. He hadn’t listened to her because he always wanted to protect his girls from everything, and nothing could have convinced him to ever stop. He has the same feeling about this Laurel now.

“You will change your mind eventually.”

There is a little bit of doubt in his heart, but he can’t give up. A father just never gives up.

* * *

Maybe just going to back to Christmas like none of the events earlier today happened, could be a bad idea after all, Oliver thinks to himself. He closes the door of the oven, enjoying the delicious smell of the food he has prepared for dinner and looks towards the living room area where Felicity, William and Thea are gathered. Despite Christmas and despite his closest family being here together for once, the loft is completely silent.

Slowly, Oliver crosses the room and sits down on the couch next to Felicity, resting an arm on the backrest of the couch behind her. Felicity leans her head against his shoulder and puts a hand to his thigh. She turns her head back over her shoulder and looks at him worriedly. Oliver smiles back half-heartedly and puts his hand to hers. He doesn’t want her to worry about him though he knows it is stupid. Of course, she is worried about him.

“William, did you already give Thea your gift?”

“I did before you guys came back home.”

“Oh.”

Oliver purses his lips. He knows Felicity already gave Thea their gift too. She opened it while he was preparing dinner. There aren’t any more gifts left to unwrap to raise some Christmas spirit.

“Dinner’s ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, about dinner,” Thea says. She clears her throat and smiles innocently. “I invited a friend over. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Felicity replies immediately. “It might help to ease the mood a little bit. Who is it?”

“Dawn from Hope House,” Thea replies.

“If she’s bringing Cody, the mood is certainly not going to get better.” William says shortly.

“William,” Oliver warns gently. “Try to be nice to him, please.”

“He’s never nice to me, so-“

He stops talking at the sound of a knock at the door. Oliver gets up to open it.

“I’m counting on you,” he says as he walks past William.

When Oliver opens the door, ready to welcome their guests and wish them a merry Christmas, his heart drops. Instead of guests, a huge box with a red bow on the top is waiting for him in front of the door.

Oliver’s heart drops. He was hoping to have at least a few normal hours of Christmas, but he guesses he should have known better. He regrets not just staying in the bunker and trying to recreate some Christmas spirit here where it was safe.

With a brief look over his shoulder, he makes sure that Thea, Felicity and William are busy talking to each other. Only then, does he step out of their apartment and take a closer look at the box. It is made of wood and looks like a box you might find in storage. It doesn’t look particularly dangerous, and he is sure there is no bomb inside or anything, so he eventually opens it up cautiously.

His stomach twists painfully and Oliver has to squeeze his eyes shut at what he sees inside, feeling a wave of nausea rising inside of him. It takes a lot from Oliver to take in a deep breath and force his eyes to open again.

His eyes meet the ones of the woman inside. They stare at him without any life left inside. Her arms and legs are twisted to make her fit in the box. Blue and red bruises shows where large hands have grabbed her throat and choked her. There is blood under her fingernails. She certainly tried to fight her attacker off. Dawn died anything but a peaceful death.

The thought makes Oliver’s stomach twist even more. This woman is a friend of Thea’s, and she had been a single-mother who just escaped a life of hell and had a bright future ahead of her. Now, it is all taken away and it is all because of a man who hates everyone around him for the hard life the world handed him.

As Oliver continues looking at Dawn’s dead body, unable to look away, he notices a small piece of paper sneaking out of the breast pocket of her blouse. Oliver pulls it out carefully and unfolds the paper. His heart stops in his chest as he sees the words written there.

_Our little conversation should stay between us for now – a secret between brothers._

“Hey, Ollie, what’s taking you so- Oh my god!”

Oliver closes the box quickly, but it is already too late. Thea has seen what or rather who was inside. He manages to wrap his arms around her just in time before her knees give out and a heartbreaking cry falls from her lips. She fights him for a moment before she claws her fingers into his suit jacket and pulls herself as close into his comforting embrace as possible.

Slade’s words echo through Oliver’s head. _How many people can Oliver Queen lose before there is no more Oliver Queen?_ How many more could Thea lose?

* * *

Felicity shuts the door behind the last detectives of the Crime Scene Unit and closes her eyes for a moment. Whatever Christmas spirit there had still been when they came back home from the bunker, is now completely dead. No holiday spirit could survive several attacks like this.

Slowly, Felicity strolls over to their bedroom. Oliver is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head lowered. He looks defeated like he has lost a fight he didn’t really know he was fighting.

She knows that Oliver notices she is standing there and looking at him, but he doesn’t lift his head. Felicity goes over to him and sits down on the edge of the mattress next to him. Her fingers lace with his and she looks at him, just waiting for him to speak. She knows the first words have to come from him.

“Is everyone gone?”

Felicity nods. “CSI just left. Thea wanted to check for Cody. He’s safe at Hope House. A therapist from SCPD is going to go with her, so Cody has help processing the first shock.”

“Where is William?”

“In his room,” Felicity replies. “I doubt he will sleep though. I will check on him again later. I think he needs a moment to be alone and I think we need a moment to talk.”

Oliver doesn’t reply to that. He keeps his gaze down, looking at their linked fingers. His thumb strokes over the wedding band on her ring finger. When his gaze finally lifts, he stares at the wall at the other side of the room. The expression in his eyes is blank like he isn’t really looking.

“Do you ever get the feeling like there is nothing good in the world?”

Felicity feels her heart breaking for Oliver. He really feels as defeated as he looks. Whatever happened today, the parts she doesn’t know about, must have really gotten under Oliver’s skin.

“Of course I do,” Felicity whispers. She grabs his left hand with hers and lifts them in front of his eyes. The light coming from the lamp is reflected in their wedding bands. “Then I see this and remember all the good there is surrounding me. When we feel like the world is just bad, we have to be the good.”

A smile ghosts over Oliver’s face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Still, Felicity knows she just enlightened the smallest flame of hope inside of him.

The silence continues. Felicity looks at Oliver, waiting for him to say something. He promised her he would talk about happened during his meeting with the Earth Two version of Adrian Chase, and she knows he will keep his promise. He just needs time to gather his strength to tell her.

“We said no more keeping secrets,” Oliver says eventually, “and I want to live up to that promise.”

Felicity smiles about Oliver’s confirmation that she is right. They are past keeping secrets. They have only done damage between them.

Oliver turns his head, looking at her intently. “Are you ready?”

Felicity doesn’t hesitate, nodding her head.

* * *

In the last eleven years, Thea has changed her mind many times about what is the worst moment of her life at least once each month. She lost her father and her brother. She learned that her mother helped plan a terroristic attack on the city. She had been abducted. She learned that her father wasn’t the kind man that raised her but the monster who planned that terroristic attack on the city and forced her mother to be part of it. She saw her mother being killed in front of her eyes. She was used to kill a friend. She learned that her father killed someone.

And those were just some highlights of the worst moments of the last years.

Now that she has had to tell her dead friend’s kid that his mother was killed, there is no doubt that this is the worst moment of them all. Nothing is worse than seeing the light of hope die in the eyes of a child, especially a child who has just developed any kind of hope.

“Where will I go now?” Cody asks, his voice as small as it has ever been. “Back to dad?”

“No,” Thea replies immediately. “No, of course you are not going back to your dad.”

“Then where do I go?”

“I have a good friend,” Thea explains. “Her name’s Lyla, and she is working for a really powerful agency.”

“For Child Welfare?”

“No.” Thea shakes her head. “She is working for ARGUS. It’s a super-secret agency that puts dangerous people behind bars and protects good people like you and me.”

“But why didn’t they protect mom?”

Thea smiles at him sadly. She takes his hands and squeezes them. It is impossible for a teenager to understand something like this. She herself has trouble understanding this, and she is older and seen a lot more of cruel things like this. The danger Cody knows, his father, is one he and Dawn successfully escaped. His mother’s killer is a danger probably neither of them saw coming.

“Nobody knew this was going to happen,” she explains, “and now it’s too late. There are no words to comfort you. I know that. It felt the same when my mother was killed. All we can do now is protect you, and my friend Lyla can make sure of that.”

“So I will live with her?”

Thea sighs. “No, but you will live with one of her agents, somewhere far, far away from here. You will get a new name and live a completely different life, but you will be safe.”

Cody wipes some tears from his cheeks, but new ones are already falling. He takes in a sniffling breath.

“Who is that agent?”

“Her name is Susan Linden-Thorne. Her codename is Black Orchid. She is a master of disguise, and a well-trained agent. She will be capable of protecting you.”

Thea hesitates, but she decides to keep the second part to herself until Agent Linden-Thorne and Cody will get to know each other better.

When Lyla called her and told her that Agent Linden-Thorne offered to leave her life behind and take care of Cody, Thea had been sure that she would be able to protect him. She just isn’t sure if she is able to offer Cody the life a kid, especially a kid with his background, needs, a life full of love and warmth. Lyla told her that Agent Linden-Thorne had her own history with domestic abuse. She was actually killed by her husband before she was brought back as a metahuman.

“Who did this to mom?”

“I don’t know this yet,” Thea says, “but I will find out. I promise you.”

Two agents step into the room. It is time for Cody to leave, which means it is time for them to say goodbye. Forever.

“These two agents will take you to the ARGUS headquarters where Agent Linden-Thorne will be waiting for you,” Thea explains to him. “You will learn everything else you need to know there.”

“Can’t you come with me?”

Thea sighs, cocking her head. “I wish I could, but I really can’t. Nobody can know where you are going. It’s safer that way.”

They get up and Thea pulls Cody close to her for a moment. She kisses the top of his head before she lets him go. She stays where she is with tears in her eyes, Thea watches him leave, and she can feel a rage inside of her that she hasn’t felt in almost two years.

It seems like the Lazarus Pit isn’t the only thing that can rise her bloodlust.

* * *

Oliver can see the shock in Felicity’s face while she is processing what he just told her. Her hand is still holding his. Her fingernails are actually digging into the back of his hand like she is scared that he is going to slip away from him, but Oliver doesn’t mind. The slight pain grounds him to this moment and keeps him from getting lost in his memory.

“What do you know about Darren McKnight?”

“Nothing,” Oliver says. “Until he started talking, I had even forgotten the memory of my parents’ discussion back then. I think I suppressed my memory because it scared me. I didn’t even dare to ask my parents about this. I was only a kid.”

“As soon as we get up tomorrow, we should call in the rest of the team and tell them about this. It’s-“

Oliver squeezes Felicity’s hand, shaking his head.

“Felicity, there is no more team,” he says. “I am telling you this because it’s ‘we don’t do secrets anymore’, so I won’t keep anything from you, and of course this affects you too because, as my wife, Darren McKnight will go after you too. He already has.”

“Oliver-“

“All of this proves to me that it’s better to keep the team separated, so everyone gets the chance to live their own lives instead of being burdened by my past.” Oliver sighs. “The team can’t help me here. This is a personal problem, and nothing has changed about that.”

“I don’t agree with you.”

“I know that,” Oliver replies without hesitation because he knows it is true, and he knew Felicity would disagree with him even before he spoke a single word. “Nothing you can say will change my mind though. I made my decision, and I know it’s better this way. Please respect me on this.”

Oliver knows it isn’t fair to use her own words against her. When she asked him to respect that she didn’t want to get married, it had been hard on her because she had seen how much he wanted to marry her. Of course, he really wants to keep the team separated too, and he knows how much it costs Felicity to respect his decision, so technically his request is founded. Still, it feels weird to use the same words she had.

He is exhausted, and he can’t wait for this day to end. This was supposed to be the happiest Christmas in years, but it had probably been the worst.

Looking at Felicity intently, he waits for her answer. She still seems to struggle with what she actually wants or what she is really ready to accept.

“I will,” Felicity whispers eventually. “At least for now.”

Oliver nods. He didn’t expect her to leave this alone without another discussion anyway. At least this is buying him some time to gain some energy before going back to discussing this with her.

“Thank you.”

Felicity nods, shooting him a half-hearted smile. She glances back at their pillows, signaling that maybe it is time for them to go to bed, but Oliver holds onto her hands. There is one more thing they need to discuss, and still Oliver isn’t sure if she is going to agree with him. Actually, he is sure she will disagree.

“Today didn’t work out as planned. Nothing worked out as planned really, and I think William needs some distraction. Honestly, so do I,” he says, “I suggest that, before I throw myself head over heels into finding Darren Knight and making sure he can’t hurt anyone close to me, we charge our batteries and enjoy some family time. We didn’t have a honeymoon yet and-“

“Oliver,” Felicity interrupts him. “McKnight is out there, planning the next big thing. We cannot go on a honeymoon. We can’t leave the city.”

“So we don’t,” Oliver says. “We don’t leave the city. We just make sure that we have time for our family. William saw the man who killed his mother today. He needs to know that his life isn’t completely falling apart. And I need to know that, too, so please let’s just agree that we take time for our family and don’t let our jobs or McKnight or whatever distract us from that. We’ve gotten distracted from spending time as a real family too much. This is not a way to avoid the conflict that will come. It’s just… a way to make sure we don’t lose sight of the good in the world.”

Felicity smiles quietly, nodding her head. “Okay.”

Oliver sighs with relief. “Okay.”

 

END OF EPISODE 9

 


	10. Ghosts, Light, & Memories to Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter packs an emotional punch AND features explicit sexual content. But it is one of those chapters that truly ended up meaning the world to me. I hope you enjoy it. -Shelby (arrow_through_my_writers_block)
> 
> The beginning few scenes of this chapter were beta'd by the lovely and supportive Tina (TinaDay3W). Thank you for your kind words and fantastic edits/suggestions. I hope the rest lives up to those edits and the overall vision.
> 
> Also, this chapter was plotted with the help of Ashley (RedPensandGreenArrows). Thank you for your help with the overall idea, your support and fangirling! You're the best, love!

**Ghosts, Light, & Memories to Fight**

 

It appears between the trees as they drive deeper into the wilderness, a safe haven away from the chaos of the city, just a thirty minute drive. A rush of old memories and emotions cascades over Oliver and he fights the urge to close his eyes to will them away; he cannot ignore the truth that haunts him.

The cabin hasn’t changed much since the last time he visited as a teenager. The same weathered wood and chiseled stone fireplace, a cluster of firewood piled against the side of the building. The same trees hugging the property. The same large windows and porch overlooking the drive. He can remember his mother sitting on the porch reading as his father sorted through paperwork beside her, work and business never left in the city. He and Thea would spend their time down by the springs and small lake in the summer, or exploring the forest in the autumn and winter. Much like this winter. Cold, snowy, and dreary.

Now, as they pull up, the cabin is quiet and abandoned, trees keeping the drive mostly free of snow. He’s not sure when his family was last here, and he knows asking Thea could unleash a flurry of pain that neither of them are ready for. _Did Mom and Thea come here when I was gone?_ he asks himself instead, allowing the unknown of the answer to slide away.

Felicity grasps his hand where it rests in the center console, fingers twining together. “Are you okay?”

He lets the question linger there, just long enough for her to know the answer before he says, “Not really.”

He parks the car and cuts the engine. The silence that falls upon them holds meaning that he isn’t ready to acknowledge.

“Is it too soon to come here?”

He turns to look at her, then shrugs. “I haven’t been here since I was a teenager.”

“If it is too painful, we can turn around right now and go back home. It might be better that way, considering the craziness.”

“No,” he says gently, eyes lingering along the lines of her lips. They are sitting in the space between neutral and frown. An odd space, especially for her. He knows she doesn’t like the idea of being even a half hour away from Star City; their recent decision to forego a honeymoon proves that. “I need this.” He squeezes her hand. “ _We_ need this.”

Felicity looks out at the cabin. “I’m not so sure. I can easily call and make sure that Thea and William do not join us tomorrow. We can stay home and binge watch something as a family… popcorn, ice cream, pizza… all the dangerous calorie-filled foods. We can avoid all of these mysteries and memories altogether.”

Oliver reaches over and brushes her chin with his fingertips, turning Felicity’s head so she looks directly at him. He sees the worry written on her face; the protectiveness she’s possessed the entire time he’s known her mixed in with their new marital status. He adores her for it, but she cannot protect him from this. “I need to remember these things.”

She sighs. “You think there will be answers here for you? In there? About him?”

He considers the question for a long while, the silence fueling his contemplation. He turns his gaze to the cabin and imagines the conversations he might not have overheard, along with the ones he may have overlooked. He looks back at Felicity and frowns. “I don’t know. But it’s worth a try, right?”

“What about Thea?”

The subject of his sister reminds him of the chaos he is running from, and especially the words of Darren McKnight. No matter how much spiraling Oliver may do about those revelations, and he’s certain he will, his sister has lost a friend. He’s been there for Thea since his return from Lian Yu and helped her through everything. _I’ll do it again, no question._ He sighs. “All I can do is give her the chance to talk… vent.”

Felicity nods. “I worry for her.”

He smiles sadly. “I know you do.” After a moment of silence, he opens the car door. “Time to explore.”

Felicity exits the car as well and they move around it, steps slow. The ease and excitement he had felt during their extravagant trip around the world is not there - the world has worn them down. Now their slow steps tell a tale of fear, caution and mourning. He fights the dark cloud that has loomed over them since Christmas and puts on a smile. At first the expression is forced, but the closer he gets to the cabin, the more genuine it becomes. He’s missed this place. “I remember when I was really little… I’d sit on this porch and play with toy cars while my parents talked or went over QC paperwork.”

Their feet hit the old porch boards, each one creaking with their weight like something from a haunted house, and Oliver watches as Felicity admires the building. She spins around slowly then faces him. “This isn’t the sort of place I’d have guessed the Queen family vacationed.”

He chuckles. “It was more for weekend getaways if business kept Dad from going elsewhere. This cabin is close enough that if he needed to go to the office, he could.”

“Did he do that often?”

Oliver nods and recalls the numerous times he would come back from the springs to find his mother fuming in the kitchen, eyes turned in the direction of the city. “Almost every single time we came here.”

She moves to the door and waits, arms crossed and toe tapping in mock impatience. “Well… aren’t you going to give me the official tour, _Mr. Queen_?”

Oliver steps forward and towers over Felicity. His hand reaches down and around her until he finds the doorknob and slides the key into the keyhole. He leans down until their noses touch, eyes locked in playful challenge. “As you wish, _Mrs. Queen_.”

He pushes the door open. Light spills into the living room and illuminates the old furniture. A few days earlier he sent Raisa to the cabin to do some tidying up - mostly dusting and changing the bedding in the numerous small bedrooms throughout. He hadn’t wanted to join her without Felicity.

They step inside and take the room in. Old, rustic furnishings litter the room, freshly cleaned and dusted. A vase of flowers rests on the oak coffee table, a signature flourish of Raisa’s caring hand. Along the mantle above the fireplace sit photographs. He walks over and stares at them as heaviness fills his heart.

Each frame holds a memory from the Queen family archives, all featuring this cabin or the surrounding scenery. He and Thea in the springs pretending to relax beside their mother. Robert throwing Thea up into the air over the lake. Moira and Robert side by side at the kitchen sink, shoulders and hips touching as the sun spills in to paint them as dark silhouettes. Teenage Oliver giving the camera and photographer the finger with a smug grin.

So many memories and so many things he can never experience again.

Felicity appears by his side and reaches for the photograph of Robert and Moira. “Who took this?”

“Thea,” he says. “She got an old film camera for Christmas one year and for a few months you would never see her without the damn thing.”

“It is beautiful."

He studies Felicity’s face to see strange emotions cross her features and shadow her eyes. He can see the photograph reflected in her glasses, a ghost of the real thing. Oliver waits for her to speak - she never remains silent for long in tense situations - and admires the strange juxtaposition of his old life being held within the hands of his new life.

His wife clears her throat as she sets the frame back on the mantle. It rests there as a permanent memorial to the couple his parents had been. “I always assumed their marriage had been cold - they both cheated and lied, after all - but this is romantic. Simple, but romantic.” Felicity’s features drop into a clear mixture of longing and remorse, so unlike the woman Oliver knows, but totally understandable. “I never witnessed that growing up.”

Oliver wraps his arm around her. Their bodies meld perfectly together, puzzle piece to puzzle piece, and her body relaxes against his in the span of a sigh. “But _you_ have that now.”

It is meant to be an encouragement, but he knows her childhood hurts are still there, beneath the surface and ready to attack. “I know,” she murmurs, eyes drifting away from the mantle of memories and to the floor. “I just wonder what life might’ve been like if my parents had even an ounce of that sort of affection for each other.”

Oliver nods and takes her hand, tugging her into the hallway. Bedrooms line it and rustic old paintings hang between the doorways, nothing like the cavernous halls of the Queen Mansion and the expensive artwork there. At the end of the hall is the door to the basement, now fortified and soundproof. Beside him Felicity tilts her head in confusion, eyes narrowed. “What’s that?” she asks, voice almost at its normal octave.

“See for yourself.”

“You know I don’t like surprises, Oliver.”

“Consider it a mystery for you to solve.” He winks.

As her hand closes around the doorknob she glares at him, then sticks her tongue out. He stays in the hallway as she explores the room, impatient for her reaction. When she returns, her brows are raised and her entire demeanor has changed from melancholy to vibrant. “You gave us a mini-bunker!”

He nods. “I did.”

“A cabin bunker. A vacation bunker…” Her voice trails off and she rushes back into the room. When she enters the hall the second time, she shakes her head. “How? Cause I know _you_ didn’t install it all.”

Oliver laughs. “Oh ye of little faith.”

“You’ve locked yourself out of your own phone before, Oliver.”

“That was one time!”

“And I’ll never let you forget that _one time_ you let simple, everyday tech get the better of you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. It wasn’t me. I had Curtis install everything.”

“He did it perfectly.”

“He knows how important safety and knowledge is. I made sure he installed everything I’d need to run the operation from here, if the situation calls for it. But more importantly, it is also a panic room. If anything happens, we’ll be safe in there.”

Before he even finishes the final word, she rushes into his arms. All of the pain and worry and uncertainty she’s allowed to constrict around her falls away the moment their bodies meet and his arms cocoon her waist. “Thank you!”

 

\---

 

The cabin fills with the bitter smell of burning butter and Oliver exhales a long sigh, just a few steps away from a groan. He enters the kitchen cautiously. “Felicity, are you trying to make omelets again?”

She throws the spatula into the sink with a stomp of her feet, hair escaping her ponytail to accent her frustration. “You’ve done something incredible for me, so I wanted to do something incredible for you. I figured mastering the ol’ omelet might qualify but the eggs just keep burning.”

“And the butter…” Oliver mutters under his breath. He removes the pan from the stove and then heads for the door. “I think you need to leave the kitchen now before you cause any further damage.”

“But it’s brunch time.”

He chuckles. “And I’ll handle it.” Felicity opens her mouth to object once more but he holds up a hand. “Please, it’ll keep my mind occupied.”

After a moment she nods, lifts onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and then walks away. Behind him, the pan sizzles still with the burning butter and he frowns. _Hopefully she didn’t use_ all _of the eggs._

 

\---

 

They spend the rest of the morning eating a late breakfast in silence. The dark cloud the Master blew in with his revelations lingers above them and Felicity doesn’t know how to proceed; all of the usual ease is gone, only appearing at sporadic little moments, gone as quickly as they begin. She sees Oliver struggling with himself - with his family legacy - and cannot help him. So she simply sits with him and allows him to process everything in his own way and at his own pace.

The cabin is peaceful. So different from their place in the city and the lives they’ve built there. It is a refreshing change and, despite her previous reservations, she’s happy Oliver requested the trip. So many things have happened and their world teeters on the edge, ready to collapse and shatter, but cuddled against him with a fire crackling in the fireplace is close to perfection.

The morning turns to afternoon, and long shadows filter through the windows to lull Felicity into a series of catnaps interspersed with Oliver’s own light snores. It has been a few weeks since she’s heard him sleep so peacefully and it tricks her into following suit. It could have been a few hours or only a few minutes, but Oliver shakes her awake and kisses her cheek. “Baby, let’s go for a hike.”

She rubs at her eyes. “Now? This late?”

His face is inches from hers, their breaths mixing together and their eyes locked. A glint of excitement passes through Oliver’s eyes as he asks, “Where’s your sense of adventure, Mrs. Queen?”

She rolls her eyes. “All tapped out from our adventures in Star City, Mr. Queen.”

“Nonsense.”

He hops up and tugs her away from the cushions. She groans but follows him to the front door to slip on her boots and coat.

Crisp, late afternoon winter air sweeps through as the door opens and Felicity buttons her coat, bottom to top, and sticks her hands into the massive pockets. The coat was Oliver’s for a few days, but after one night of Felicity wearing it to pick up take-out, it became hers. Cozy, loose and cavernous pockets that, in a pinch, can fit one of her numerous tablets… the coat is navy blue magic. Oliver’s newer, gray coat matches it and the fact makes her smile. _Impossible not to see we’re together…_

They start their trek turning left off the porch and onto a trail covered by an evergreen canopy, the ground shrouded in shadow and snow kept fresh by the cool of the shade. Felicity cannot remember the last time she hiked for pleasure. _Probably when I was little. At Mount Charleston?_ she muses to herself as the silence of the forest settles in and she inhales the clean, clear air. _We should take William to Mount Charleston someday. And Red Rock. And Death Valley…_ The list goes on and on. So many places and most likely not enough time. She wonders if this is why Oliver was so adamant about their little getaway. _Family getaway with William in a place from family getaways past._

Oliver chuckles.

“What?” she asks, cheeks warming from the amused scrutiny she finds on his face.

“You look so serious. What are you thinking about?”

Felicity skips, just a few steps ahead, then spins around to face Oliver as they walk. _No falling. No tripping._ “Just all of the places it’d be nice to take William.”

A sadness flits across Oliver’s face, for just a moment; the mask he relies on solidly blocks the shadowy mood from staying too long. “Do you have a lot of places on that list?”

She nods. “Lots of places in Nevada. Did you know it isn’t all desert there?”

“Really?”

She can tell he’s indulging her train of thought in the hopes it will keep the darkness at bay longer. She nods once more. “There’s a ski lodge about a half hour or more away from Vegas and there are canyons and waterfalls and so many trails. In the spring and fall it is gorgeous.”

“Did you ever ski?”

Her feet plant into the ground and she stares at Oliver. “Do I look like the sort of person with the dexterity, balance, and sportiness required to ski?” When he simply blinks at her, she adds, “I don’t think so.”

“You sell yourself short,” Oliver says as he makes a dash forward and grasps her waist. She surrenders into his arms, luxuriating in the warmth that seeps through his coat.

“You didn’t have the opportunity to see me in high school gym. Let me tell you, it was not pretty. There’s a reason I sit behind a computer screen and don’t get out there, kicking ass.”

Oliver’s chest vibrates as he laughs. “Well, I’ve seen you kick ass before and I think you’d do great with some training.”

Felicity pulls herself out of his arms, looks to discover Oliver’s eyes shining and a smile wide on his face, then steps back a foot. “I can promise you that I could never run fast enough to catch a baddie and I most definitely wouldn’t run fast enough to escape capture.”

Her husband’s eyes narrow and he looks down. She watches as he catches her stance and the lightness of her feet, ready to bolt at any moment. “Is that a request for training?”

She shrugs. “Think you’re up to the task, Mr. Queen?”

He laces his fingers together and bends his knuckles back with a pop that echoes off the trees. “I’m ready for _anything_ , baby.”

Felicity inches backwards, hands at her sides and heart beginning a steady beat of nervousness. Oliver’s intensity has always enthralled her… intoxicated her to the point of distraction until her mind numbs and she’s a mushy puddle of horniness. And now, as his eyes darken with threats and seduction, she finds her insides fluttering into a nest of anticipation. _Don’t spend too much time focused on his eyes or the… way he’s licking his lip. That bastard and his lip licking._

Oliver jerks forward and she steps back in panic. He’s teasing… hunting… setting her on edge. “Would you like a head start?”

Felicity considers the question for a moment, then decides. She bolts away from her husband and up the trail, into the unknown. After a few moments pass, Oliver’s much quieter stride travels on the air and hits her ears, quickly falling in sync with the beat of her heart.

They run for what seems an eternity. Their footfalls beat into the muddy, snow-strewn trail in a mesmerizing rhythm that lulls Felicity into a trance. Footfall, footfall, breath. Footfall, footfall, breath. It erases her mind until all she knows is the sensation of ground speeding along beneath her feet and the looming, mock threat of Oliver’s grasp behind her. She can feel him closing in, so she digs her feet deeper into the trail and pushes herself forward. Footfall, footfall, breath. Footfall, footfall, breath…

The trees open up to reveal the end of the trail and a sheer, rocky drop. She stops and bends forward, hands clamped to her knees, and gasps out a laugh. Oliver skids to a stop beside her, shoes kicking up dust. “Looks as though the rabbit has outrun the fox,” he says between breaths.

“I suppose I have.”

Once she regains her strength and her heart slows to a normal pace, Felicity looks around.

The trees open onto a small clearing that drops off, exposing a view of the forest and the Star City skyline blinking to life with the last hour of sunlight. “Wow,” she murmurs.

 

\---

 

Oliver isn’t sure when he was last at this spot high above the forest, but he knows one thing: it has been too long.

The weathered bench is still there, finish chipping away with the years of exposure. He steps forward slowly and takes a seat, the rough surface catching on his coat as he leans back. He hears Felicity shuffling behind him and he gently pats the space beside him until she sits and leans her body against his. Her presence is a comfort as waves of unexplored emotions crash over him and memories expose themselves.

He can see it clearly. The view beyond bright and warm, at the height of summer. Birds chirp. A light breeze rustles the trees. The city has a few less buildings displayed in its skyline than it does presently, a sign of development and prosperity but also time.

 _Time…_ Oliver thinks, the word turning itself over and over in his mind. _I’ve lost so much of it._ He can see the moment clearly.

His younger self. Carefree, spoiled and rebellious.

His father. Tired, work-worn and yet so strong.

They sat in silence and Oliver sees his younger self growing impatient. He knew where the silence was heading. And sure enough, after numerous long and drawn out minutes, Robert cleared his throat. _What I wouldn’t give to hear that again,_ Oliver muses. His father always, without fail, cleared his throat before a serious discussion. Whether at home or on vacation, it didn’t matter; if you heard Robert Queen clear his throat, you knew to settle in for a long chat and possible scolding.

“Oliver,” Robert began, hand reaching out to pat Younger Oliver’s knee. The gesture was meant to be encouraging, but Younger Oliver felt it was steeped in judgment and frustration. “I know you’re having a good time and, of course, I believe all young men should at your age. But I think it might be time to get you involved in the company.”

Younger Oliver groaned, loud and exasperated. Now, he knows it was an insult to his father and the legacy he worked so hard to build. His father closed his eyes at the sound and clenched his fists. A flutter of sadness went across Robert’s face before he concealed it. Oliver remembers not caring about it in the least. “Dad, you know I have absolutely no interest in Queen Consolidated.”

Robert remained calm and patient. “I know, Son. Trust me, I know. But you’re the only one I can pass this onto. You have the head for the business; I know it. You’re savvy and creative and a real go-getter, when you want to be.”

“I don’t even really know what you do at QC.”

Robert turned to face him, hands growing animated with hope. “And I can explain everything to you. The ins and outs. The numbers. The names and accounts. Everything.”

Younger Oliver looked out onto the expanse of forest and his city beyond it, then rolled his eyes. “What if that’s not what I want?”

Robert patted his back. “What _do_ you want?”

Younger Oliver shrugged his father’s hand away and stood, arms spread in dismissal. “I don’t know. Maybe I want to travel the world. Maybe I want to open my own business. Maybe I want to be a professional couch potato.”

Robert shook his head and allowed a smirk to break his stern mask. “You don’t actually want to remain a couch potato for the rest of your life, despite the amount of practice you’ve been getting. You were born into this calling…”

“Running a multi-million dollar company is not a calling.”

Robert closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then let it out along with the words, “Oh, Oliver… What am I to do with you?”

Now, years later and with many revelations laid bare, Oliver knows Robert had been thinking of Darren McKnight. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, his father had been wishing he had an enthusiastic biological son - a boy ready to take on everything his name and family represented.

Young Oliver shrugged. “Give up, I guess.”

Robert shook his head. “I cannot give up on my legacy, Oliver.”

The words echo in Oliver’s memories, melding with other such discussions and the inevitable loss of that legacy. Guilt presses in, suffocating Oliver until a sob breaks forth and he leans forward, elbows on his knees and face cupped in his hands.

“Oliver?” Felicity’s voice floats into the moment, sending the memories away to cement him in the present. “Baby? Are you okay?”

His choking sobs continue to wrack his body: shoulders shake, nose runs to match the tears escaping his eyes… his guilt and despair overwhelm him until it is all he knows. He vaguely feels Felicity’s hands rubbing his back in soothing circles, back and forth, and her question returns to him.

“No,” he gasps out between his sobs. “No, I’m not.”

The soothing circles continue as a breeze kicks up and cools the warmth that has spread across his face. Each gust dries some of his tears and soon Oliver sits up. He finds the world has darkened and the distant skyline has lit up to its full glory. His city.

“Oliver, what’s wrong?”

“The past caught up with me a bit,” he answers, quick and to the point.

“You call an emotional breakdown just _a bit_?”

“I’ve let my father down.”

Felicity shakes her head and her hand trails along his spine. “You have not.”

Oliver jumps up and begins to pace. His boots grind into the ground with each step, kicking up dirt and rocks as he spins to repeat his contemplative trek. “I have, Felicity. I have.”

“I don’t see how. You’ve become a wonderful, loving man. A father. A role model. You’ve done so much for this city and given so much of yourself to it, especially in your father’s name. You’ve-”

“I’ve still failed him.” He stops and gazes out toward the city. He studies the skyline, all sharp corners and straight edges that house families and businesses. Hopes and dreams built into a cityscape that he feels responsible for, but far too late. “I lost his company and his home. His legacy. Everything he built is gone.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy with long-standing procrastination and newfound guilt.

After a few moments Felicity moves toward him and holds out her hand, wedding band gleaming in the fading light. “We should get back,” she mutters.

He knows she’s stalling. He knows she’s giving him time to process everything while they walk back. And all of it, every little calculation she’s made during his breakdown, is exactly what he needs. So he nods and takes her hand. “We should get back,” he repeats.

 

\---

 

Oliver is crouched in front of the fireplace, stoking the embers as the flames grow and dance, warmth emanating from each movement. His eyes are locked on a dark, untouched section of a log, studying the groove and patterns within the bark.

His mood has not changed since their hike out to the overlook, and he knows Felicity is walking on eggshells. Despite the positivity and light she displayed, his feels have remained unchanged. Guilt still sits there in his heart and weighs him down. His father’s voice still taunts him with expectations and the knowledge of a genius who could have been so much more than Oliver.

“Oliver,” Felicity says from behind him.

He turns slowly at the sultry cadence of her voice. He knows it well. Sexy. Luring. Tempting. And when he finally faces the source, the physical presence matches the voice perfectly.

Felicity stands before him completely naked but for a simple star necklace, her industrial piercing and the wedding band glistening in the orange light of the flames. Her hair is a mess of curls and her lips are formed into a longing pout, begging to be met by his own desperate mouth.

Her chest is rising and falling quickly as she stands there, still and waiting. His heart pounds and his own breathing picks up pace as his eyes meet hers.

“Felicity…”

She closes her eyes the moment her name leaves his tongue and he hears a tiny moan escape from her throat, taunting him him with her vocalization; he’s done for. His own throat goes dry as his need drops and his pants grow tighter. Everything disappears as he memorizes her curves… The lines of her breasts. The sharp extension of her nipples as she breathes. The deliciousness between her legs. Everything disappears as he stands and makes his way over to her.

The moment his hands reach her skin, he is lost and completely overtaken by her and the need for her body. “Oliver…” she moans as his hands trail the length of her body and his lips trace the line of her jaw, tongue snaking out for a taste here and there.

The stresses of the day melt away as he feels her hands tugging at his shirt. He lifts his arms and allows her to rip it away, then feels her tackle the button of his jeans. She pushes his pants down to his ankles and he steps out of them, happy he already removed his socks. The boxer briefs remain intact and he frowns. “That all I’m gonna get?”

She shakes her head, complete tease, and then slides his boxer briefs down, freeing his erection. As he steps out of the underwear, their bodies touch and ignite a new fire.

Her hand grasps his cock and begins working it, back and forth, rhythmic squeezes to match the pounding of his heart. For a moment he simply relishes the sensation. Then he moves into action.

His fingers trace patterns along her skin. Over her breasts, along her tummy and to the precious ‘v’ between her legs. Her own hand loses its beat as he grazes her folds, exploring and teasing until he finds the spot. Her precious clit, ready and waiting for his touch. The moment he puts pressure to it, she’s a mess of moans and uneven breathing.

He senses her legs growing weak and he guides then down to the plush rug splayed in front of the fireplace. She faces away from him, body cradled against his as he continues to send her deeper into her pleasure. One hand continues the patterns against her clit while the other massages her breast. Her head is against his chest and her hair scrapes against his skin as she writhes with each bout of pleasure, back arching and moans escaping her lips. With each movement of his fingers and dive into her folds, a new spasm releases itself from her core until his hand is coated in her arousal.

She lets out a cry at the peak of her pleasure and then his name leaves her lips, faint and breathy and full of ecstasy. For a few moments she simply rests there against his chest, his cock throbbing against her back, waiting… longing…

“Oliver,” she whimpers, eyes open and gazing up at him with glossy, intoxicated awareness. 

“Yes, Felicity?”

“Please,” she begs, rising shakily to her knees in front of him. “Let me fuck you.”

Without waiting for more than his enthusiastic nod, she pushes him backward and slowly straddles him. Her luxuriously wet entrance hovers above his waiting cock, warm and teasing.

Then she drops slowly, her inner walls grasping hold of his length with each inch, sheathing him until he can go no further. They both gasp at the sensation. Her nails claw at his chest and his hands hold tight and fast to her hips in anticipation.

The moment she begins to move, he loses all coherent thought. The world around them disappears but for the two of them, the fire and the rug beneath their bodies. All he knows is the pleasure rippling through his body from the connection they share, intense and tight and all he will ever need for the rest of his life.

The longer she rides him, the closer to climax he gets and he quickly sits up to meet her, skin to skin. He wraps her in his arms and nips at her neck, loving the heat radiating off from her pulse. In one swift motion he shifts them until he hovers over her, their bodies still connected, her legs wrapped around his waist.

He thrusts deep and she cries out his name,  her nails digging into his shoulders. Again and again. Thrust upon thrust until he can no longer maintain a rhythm. She holds him tight as he moves faster, frantic and deep until they both let out a final moan.

He remains over her, head cradled in the crook of her neck. Her pulse is rapid and her skin slick with sweat. Around his waist, her legs tremble as her thighs give out from the cascade of pleasure.

Finally he collapses beside her and their hands meet along her stomach. She spins his wedding ring around before lacing their fingers together, then sighs. “Satisfied, Mr. Queen?”

“Quite,” he replies. “What about you, Mrs. Queen?”

“Always,” she answers with a giggle as she snuggles closer to him.

He kisses her forehead and closes his eyes, content to rest by the fire until their satisfaction wanes, as is usually the case, and they initiate a round two.

 

\---

 

Sunlight trickles in through the curtains in their bedroom and Oliver groans as he squeezes his eyes shut, aware of Felicity’s absence. He’s groggy and his eyes feel the toll of the tears he cried the night before. The sensation brings the memories back full force but he pushes them aside, unwilling to let the past sully the first day at the cabin with William. As unwanted and unready as he is to greet the day, he opens his eyes and focuses on his watch.

_10:39am_

William and Thea are due any minute. Felicity is surely scurrying about to make the place presentable for them, frantic and most likely muttering incoherently to herself. He stretches and sits up, feet sliding out from under the sheets to meet the hardwood floor. The sizzle of bacon and accompanying aroma travel from the front of the cabin to the bedroom, luring him from his tiredness. His stomach growls.

He rustles through the bag by the bed and pulls out a pair of boxer briefs and an old pair of jeans. Once he slips into those, he digs out a faded gray Henley and tugs it on. He leaves his feet bare, luxuriating in the richness of the hardwood flooring and the history behind it. How many barefooted steps had his father taken? His mother always wore fluffy slippers, but the rest of his family loved wiggling their toes, free and exposed.

He stands and makes his way to the kitchen. Felicity is covered in a loose and tattered cream sweater and a pair of black jeans, feet also bare. He tiptoes behind her and wraps his arms around her, letting her warmth transfer into him. The scent of her floral shampoo wafts up and he smiles.

“Hey there, Mr. Queen,” she says after a hum of contentment.

“Hello, Mrs. Queen.”

She spins around, spatula held up high above them, and wraps her free arm around his waist. “Did you sleep well?”

He knows she’s asking about a lot more than just his night of sleep… they always communicate with more than words, and the furrow of her brow mixed with the hopefulness in her eyes adds in a string of unspoken questions: _“Did you have any nightmares? Did you sleep at all? Are you still struggling with things?”_

He leans down and plants a gentle, lingering kiss to her lips. “I slept...okay,” he answers, knowing she’ll read between the lines and the pause. _“I didn’t sleep much. No nightmares, but the past is killing me.”_

She nods into his chest before turning back to the stove. Oliver looks over her shoulder to see the turkey bacon popping and a small plate loaded with multiple cooked slices. “Looks good. You haven’t burned them like last time.”

She glances over her shoulder and glares at him. “I left the eggs for you.”

He laughs and gets to work whisking eggs. They work in comfortable silence, bodies occasionally brushing. It reminds him of their first few years in the foundry, stealing glances and touches in the midst of perfect synchronicity and teamwork, with every unspoken pull between them forbidden by his own silly guilt and broodiness.

The bacon, toast and eggs are finished the moment a knock sounds from the front door. Felicity giggles excitedly and rushes to the hallway. Oliver finishes plating breakfast and looks up in time to see Thea walk into the room, eyes navigating the familiar space with a complex array of emotions written on her face.

“Hey, Speedy,” he says, low and cautious.

“Hey, Ollie,” she murmurs. She gives him her signature smirk and rushes into his arms for a hug. She’s been so elusive since losing her friend, keeping to herself in an attempt to process, and Oliver has been itching to talk to her… to help her.

They break apart and Oliver studies her face. No tears. No signs of recent tears. He knows the cabin could trigger things later, but for now Thea is holding it together. _A lot better than I am, I think…_

Felicity and William burst in, all smiles and in the midst of an excited conversation. “...and I know there’s a lake. But we haven’t explored much, honestly.”

“Awesome,” William chimes in. “Is it creepy here at night?”

Felicity laughs and looks at Oliver, pointing a finger at the boy. “This boy and creepy stuff, I swear.”

Oliver chuckles. “You don’t have to understand it, honey. Just accept it.”

“Yeah!” William agrees, eyeing Felicity critically.

“So, I smell breakfast. Can we eat?” Thea asks.

“Yeah, she’s _famished_ or whatever.” William rolls his eyes after a perfect impersonation of his aunt.

 

\---

 

After breakfast, all four of them leave the cabin to explore the property and the forests surrounding it. They take a trail opposite the one from the night before and relish in the cloudless sky and morning sunlight. Felicity keeps an eye on Oliver as they delve deeper into the woods, waiting for signs of the pain he showcased the evening before.

There have only been a handful of times Oliver has broken down in her presence, and every single time he has, it shatters a little piece of her. The strong vigilante losing his mask to overwhelming pain is not something she ever wants to witness, and yet it has been a regular occurrence of late.

But Oliver is smiling and chatting with William, pointing out special things here and there. He has stories for everything, to the point she’s surprised he hasn’t chosen a specific tree to discuss.

“Hey, Ollie! Do you think our carving is still there?”

Felicity turns to find Thea pointing at a bridge just visible through the trees. _So much for that…_

They all rush over to the structure. It’s a covered bridge, roof red and wood a deep green, each color somewhat faded from years of exposure to the elements. Beneath it sits a frozen creek, quiet and undisturbed. The smooth stones harken back to spring and summer, when the temperatures heated the ice and melted it away in a rush of fresh water. _We need to come back here in the spring…_ Felicity thinks, longing for the calming sound of trickling water. Her white noise app is nothing compared to naturally occurring creeks and the myriad of sounds accompanying them.

They continue on to the bridge and stop about halfway. Oliver and Thea lean down and study a support beam. “There it is!” Thea shouts, her voice echoing through the covered structure and out onto the trail.

“Oh wow, it is still here!”

Felicity steps closer and her eyes focus on a haphazard carving in the wood. Despite the smoothing the years have performed on each edge, she can see how jagged it must have been when first etched into the beam. Two lines. Two different names. Obvious sign of siblings poking fun.

_Speedy wasn’t here._

_Ollie Q. is a dick._

Felicity snorts back a laugh. “You guys were...”

Oliver shrugs. “Handfuls?”

“Um, obviously. We were troublemakers.” Thea winks at her before rolling her eyes. “We were kids. And apparently I was a very vulgar kid.”

“You should’ve written something much more epic,” William contributes as he eyes the words critically.

“Like what, buddy?”

A silence falls between all of them and then the boy laughs, head shaking. “No idea.”

 

\---

 

“Have you ever gone sledding?” the two Queen siblings ask William in unison, reminding Oliver so much of the their lives as children; races and games and laughter, mixed in with simultaneous sentences. He turns his gaze to son and finds him unperturbed by the whole moment.

They are continuing their trek through the trees. Oliver knows exactly where they are heading, and his excitement is building. A memory can be made there. Something to cherish. Something new to build and shape on old Queen property.

“Nope,” William admits. “Mom never took me.” A sadness flits across the boy’s face and eyes for a moment, then he is back to normal. “She didn’t really like the cold or snow. I don’t really either.”

Oliver frowns. “Oh.”

“But sledding sounds awesome!”

Oliver grasps his son’s shoulder and squeezes, so much like Robert had done constantly throughout his childhood. “You’ll love it, buddy!”

Felicity comes up beside him and nudges him to show her support of the entire interaction, then asks, “Where are we going?”

“To get the sleds, of course,” he answers.

“Duh,” William adds.

Felicity rolls her eyes. “So sorry to be out of the loop on this whole thing.”

Just as she speaks, the trees and trail open up to a small meadow. In the center is an old shed made of the same materials as the cabin, but with less care given to its upkeep. Oliver goes to the door, key in hand and unlocks it. He pushes it in and is greeted by a puff of dust and the scent of wood and moth-eaten cloth. Inside, a pillar of light slants down from a small window at the back to illuminate a stack of sleds covered by a tarp and long deflated inner tubes for the lake.  

Suddenly William is pushing past him and rips the tarp off the sleds. “These?”

Oliver nods. “Yep.”

“I call the red one!” his son shouts.

“That was mine.”

William looks up at him, beaming. “Like father, like son?”

“Exactly.”

Everyone else grabs one of the three remaining sleds and leaves the shed. Oliver turns for a moment and smiles. How many times had his parents pulled those sleds out for them? How many times had they soared across the snow alongside their children? Despite the sadness the memories bring him, he can’t help but feel a warmth spread through his bpdy at the chances he had and love he felt from his parents. _They’re gone,_ he thinks as he turns away from the building. _But they will always be here…_

He leads the way to the slope he remembers from childhood. The trees hug the hill on all sides, keeping the snow shaded for most of the day. At the top of the slope a picnic bench provides a perfect view of the surroundings. He recalls the many times his father and mother had used that bench for paperwork while he and Thea went back and forth, up and down on the slope, for hours. He remembers the many picnic lunches eaten at the table and the numerous conversations - some easy and some difficult - that were shared. _We’ll have new ones._

“So this is where we do it?” William asks, jumping from foot to foot in excitement.

“Yep. Let me show you how it’s done, kid,” Thea proclaims and drags her sled to the edge of the slope, teetering there in wait of the right push. She steps onto the sled, grasps the handles and then thrusts her weight forward until the whole thing tips. Then she is flying down the hill, smile bright and wide on her face when she looks back to William. “C’mon, William!” she shouts excitedly.

He pulls his sled over and follows every step his aunt displayed in her tutorial, face serious as each one leads to the final step. He looks toward Oliver, brows drawn together in nervousness.

“You got this, buddy,” Oliver encourages with a nod.

William gives him a thumbs up, then sends the sled soaring over the snow. His laughter floats on the air and warms Oliver’s heart.

Next to him Felicity giggles. “Wanna share a sled?”

Oliver moves toward his chosen sled - his father’s black one, paint fading with age - and looks back at her with a wink. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

\---

 

Felicity watches as Oliver helps William build a large, lopsided snowman and Thea looks on, giving instructions. The sight of them - of the family she has gained - makes her smile. _Is this real?_ she wonders to herself. _How did I get so lucky?_

Her past catches up with her. Her childhood. Her college days. Her first year with Oliver and the foundry. All of the hardships and terrors and hurts. Everything has dropped her in this spot, happy and ready for the future despite her fears. Oliver has given her so many things and even without the mission and the chaos it brings, her life feels perfect. She shakes her head in awe. _Crazy…_

Her phone vibrates and buzzes in her pocket. She digs it out and looks at the screen. A pang kicks up in her chest. _John._

“Hello?” she answers.

“Hey, Felicity.”

John’s voice isn’t the sad, raspy low voice she expected. He almost sounds… positive. She can hear youthful laughter in the background and smiles. He’s home. Things sound easy and normal.

“How are things?” John asks after she leaves the line silent for a little too long.

“Fine. We’re out of town.”

“Oh. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not really interrupting anything. Oliver is building a snowman with William and Thea, and I’ve just been running some numbers for some projects.” She waits a moment, expecting him to say something. When he doesn’t, she continues. “I was actually gonna call you later, so I’m glad you called. How are you?”

He clears his throat. “Been better, obviously. But I’m working through it.” John sighs into the phone, then amends his previous statement: “ _We’re_ working through it.”

She nods to the wilderness around her. “I’m so glad. Truly.”

“Is Oliver still being stubborn?”

Felicity laughs. “About the mission and firing everyone? Yes. I’m just waiting it out, honestly. He’ll get over this macho-independent phase eventually. He always does.”

“Are you keeping an eye on him… secretly?”

She scoffs. “He got clever and locked me out of my own system somehow. I’ve broken it a couple times, but I can’t keep that up when he’s like this. It might not be fair how he went about things, but it isn’t fair to force his hand away from this decision either. He has to realize what a stupid decision it was on his own.”

“He’ll get there.”

Felicity smiles. “You guys will get there too,” she says, heart aching for her friend and the pain and stress he’s gone through. “Everything will work out for everyone eventually.”

He chuckles into the phone and she knows the look that must be on his face. Half skepticism, half agreement. Smirk and playful, humoring eyes. “Who am I to question the word of the great Felicity Smoak.”

“Don’t you mean _Queen_?”

“You’ll always be Felicity Smoak to me.”

 

\---

 

They all sit in the living room of the cabin, in the middle of the floor with pillows and blankets scatter amongst them. A fire rages in the fireplace and Oliver stares into it as a witch might do to seek out visions of the future. The flames lick about, absorbing the wood in a destructive dance and take on shapes. Shapes from the past… memories long left unturned. Everything narrows until the flames take over his thoughts and the warmth envelopes him like the fluffy blanket Felicity shares with him.

He is unsure how long he is lost in the trance, but Felicity’s hand brushing his cheek brings him back to the dimly lit present. “You okay, baby?” she asks.

He nods. “Yes. Just zoned out a bit.”

“A bit?” Thea scoffs. “I was afraid you were gonna fall forward into the fire, you were so zoned out.”

“Sorry.”

Felicity waves the whole thing off and then nudges William. “Your son is remaining _on brand_ and is asking for spooky stories.”

“Spooky stories?”

“Campfire tales. Ghost stories. Oral traditions passed down as cautionary tales to teach children…” Felicity lists them off, humor on her face and in her eyes.

“Anything you got,” William says, then holds up a hand. “Well, anything but the ones about the dude with a hook for a hand.”

“The Hook?” Thea asks.

William nods and scrunches his nose. “That story is terrible.”

Thea takes a sip of wine after mumbling something into the glass that Oliver is certain sounded like, “That one was my favorite…”

Oliver closes his eyes and ponders the numerous stories he’s been told, horrors he’s lived firsthand and anything in between. His father and mother were never the sorts to tell stories, and he has kept himself so quiet for so long… _Would I even be able to tell William a story?_

“While you ponder and brood, I can tell William about Nasty Nancy’s House.”

Thea’s head tilts to the side as she stares at Felicity. “Who?”

“Nasty Nancy.”

Thea shrugs, William shakes his head and Oliver chuckles. “We got nothing, Felicity,” William says.

“Well, let me tell you all about her.”

For a few moments Felicity adjusts her blanket and pillow, face turned into a mask of concentration; the same face she uses when in the middle of a really tough hack. She is carefully crafting her story - Oliver knows this for sure - and piecing together everything she will need to wow and scare William.

Finally she clears her throat and begins her tale. “My grandmother lived in an old neighborhood in Vegas - one of the oldest. Like, the trees were huge, yards were too, and some people had been there since the neighborhood was built.”

She leans in, lips turned up into a mischievous smirk, as if everything she is about to say is a secret. “Some even say the neighborhood is haunted by the souls of people killed by the mafia that ran Vegas in the old days.”

“Cool,” William whispers, completely and totally sold.

“My grandmother used to watch me and a bunch of the neighborhood kids after school while their parents were still at work,” Felicity continues, eyes somewhat distant now. Oliver wonders if this aspect of the story is real. _Must be._ There are aspects of Felicity’s childhood that he still doesn’t know - little bits she keeps to herself and only reveals at random, when the time feels right. This tale she’s weaving is one such instance.

“Some of the kids were absolute handfuls, always breaking the rules, making messes… so much trouble.”

“Where does this Nancy lady come into play?” Thea asks, feigning annoyance despite the clear interest and excitement in her eyes.

Felicity holds up a hand, one finger up to silence further questions. “Grandma often got sick of their antics. I mean, who wouldn’t? So she stuffs us all in the car and drive us a few streets over to this house that looked decades older than the others. She said it was Nasty Nancy’s House.”

As if on some sort of cinematic cue, a log falls into the embers and light bursts with a crackling fury. William sits up a little straighter, then asks: What did the house look like?”

Felicity smiles her most evil, cryptic smile and rubs her hands together conspiratorially. “The walls were overgrown and weeds sprung out all over the yard, catching trash and all sorts of things from the wind. The weeds had even begun forcing themselves into the cracks in the walls and crawling up the building.”

“Creepy,” William mouths.

“Very,” Oliver mouths after him. He glares at Felicity, hoping she can read the expression’s meaning. _“If this somehow gives him nightmares, I will end you.”_

She bats her eyelashes in unspoken response, then continues on. “Grandma would stop outside of the house, right on the side of the road and say…” Felicity clears her throat and begins mimicking the voice of an elderly woman. Wizened and throaty.  “If you children keep your shenanigans up, I will pull right up into that driveway and leave you with Nasty Nancy. Do you want that? Do you want the person who lives in _that_ house to take care of you?”

“I bet those kids were shaking,” Thea says with a chuckle.

“They all begged her to turn around and she’d just remind them that they better behave themselves.”

“Did they?” Oliver asks. He glances over at his son to find his eyes locked on Felicity, waiting for where this story is going.

“For a while. But every single time they started their nonsense again, Grandma would do it again.”

“Did she ever leave anyone?” William asks, anxious.

Felicity shakes her head. “Nope. But a few of the kids, when they got older…” Felicity points at William. “About your age, actually. A few of them decided to hop the fences and explore Nasty Nancy’s yard and see if they could catch a glimpse of her.”

Williams eyes widen. “Did they?”

Oliver watches Felicity’s face shift from classic teller of horrific tales to a somber, mournful scowl. She nods slowly. “They were never the same again.”

“But what did she _look_ like?”

They all sit in silence as Felicity ponders the question. “You know the creepy nun from the _Conjuring_ movies that really freak me out?”

William nods, eyes widening.

“Kinda like that, but more alive and clearly insane. They said her eyes were really wide and the bags under them very dark. They said her hair was a mess, like she hadn’t washed it in years.”

“Gross,” they all say in unison.

“They said she started mumbling something and biting at her nails.”

“What was she mumbling?”

“They refused to tell me, but the way they looked at me told me that she had clearly recited their names like she was listing them. Deciding who she would kill first.”

Oliver rolls his eyes and nudges Felicity. She looks at him and winks, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “What?”

“This whole thing wasn’t true, was it?” William asks, arms crossed and one brow raised in skepticism. “It never happened…”

“You decide. Or maybe when we go to Vegas someday, I can take you to see Nasty Nancy’s house for yourself.” Felicity’s eyes narrow as she throws the challenge to William. Oliver knows his son won’t allow her to see his actual fear, and the defiant posture the boy shows proves it.

“I want a _real_ creepy story.”

For a few moments, they just sit there. The warmth of the fireplace envelops them and the sparking and crackling fills the silence, the dancing flames tossing shadows along the walls. Then Thea claps her hands together, making all of them jump at the abruptness of the sound. It echoes through the house. “I got one.”

Oliver eyes her suspiciously. “Thea…” he murmurs in warning.

“I was resurrected from the dead!”

“Thea!” Felicity and Oliver shout at the same time, but their protests mean nothing. William is already sitting up excitedly, eyes locked on his aunt with a newfound curiosity and fascination.

“Cool!”

 

\---

 

Oliver wakes up with a groan. A muted, gray light trickles in through the window and he frowns. It is not morning yet. It has been a while since he woke up so early without reason - thinking about it, he is certain the last time was when he first got back from Lian Yu. Felicity shifts beside him, curling against him to find his warmth. He kisses her forehead and waits for her usual response. She hums in contentment, murmurs something, then turns around to face the gray window.

He waits a few minutes, content to listen to the even inhales and exhales of his wife, peaceful in slumber. The simplicity is overwhelming. The life he has built continues to surprise him. _How did I get here?_ It takes everything in him not to worry about how he might possibly screw it up, and so he focuses on what is out of his control.

_Darren McKnight._

Oliver sits up and leaves the bed and Felicity’s sleeping form, mind racing with the revelation. The cabin hallway is shrouded in shadows and each creaking step he takes solidifies the fear that he has been fighting. Despite the shadows he sees each and every painting and photograph lining the hallway. All of them stamped in his memory. As he passes them, the same question rushes through his mind.

_Did they ever bring him here?_

Growing up, Oliver always knew that this cabin and the surrounding land had been in the family for ages… long before he was ever born.  It belonged to members of the Queen family for so long that Robert used to tell old anecdotes about his own grandfather and relatives Oliver would never know. He knows the importance the little getaway had for Robert and it is impossible to believe it hadn’t always played a role in his family’s life before Oliver.

_Did he ever walk this hallway? Did he ever roast marshmallows in the fireplace? Did he ever swim in the lake? Did he ever use the sled? My sled?_

Question after question burst forth until he can feel himself spiraling into the unknown, unsure what to ponder first and whether he will survive if he does. His skin grows warm and his breathing quickens until it feels as if the walls and ceilings are closing in. _One. Two. Three,_ he begins counting, a technique Felicity swears by but he has never quite caught the usefulness of.

 _Four. Five. Six._ The walls continue to loom on either side of him, threatening suffocation. He pictures Felicity’s face and her lips reciting each number, voice soothing in her insistence that it works for her so maybe it will work for him.

 _Seven. Eight. Nine._ But it is not working. His heart pounds up to his ears and the creaking steps that once filled the cabin cannot be heard. He forces his way through the living room and toward the front door. He turns the multiple locks and then pushes the door open.

_Ten._

Frigid winter air hits his flesh and shocks his body out of its torment. He lets out a long exhale and leans against the patio railing, defeated.

“Ollie?”

Thea’s voice is a surprise in the quiet of the growing morning.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” he murmurs, eyes turned down and away.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I know the feeling.”

Her steps sound against the silence, each one sending up creaks and groans from the boards. Then Thea is beside him, arm snaking its way around his and her head falls to rest on his bicep. He relaxes slightly.

“So much has happened,” she says in a whisper, as if the world isn’t ready for her thoughts. “Why can’t any of us catch a break?”

Oliver shrugs. “Seems to be a family trait.”

He feels Thea nod against his arm. “Are you okay, Ollie? You haven’t really been yourself much since Christmas.”

He hasn’t spoken to his sister much since the holidays and the chaos that engulfed their lives in those few days, and he knows how important it is to keep her in the loop. But he hesitates. Even though their versions of Robert and Moira are very different, Thea still holds on to so many memories… many more than Oliver does. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and then says, “I didn’t tell you everything that happened.”

She chuckles lightly. “I figured. You tend to withhold information the majority of the time.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying not to do that anymore. I need to tell you something, but I know it is going to hurt you.”

“How much more can I possibly be hurt?”

The truth of her statement batters against him like a tidal wave. They have both endured so many hardships, violence and trauma; it is a wonder they function at all. They have both learned numerous things about their parents over the years, most of which painted them in a darker, more sinister light. But this feels different somehow. So much more personal. Emotional. Relatable.

Oliver can put himself into his parents’ shoes without difficulty and see how adopting a brilliant young boy might be appealing. Fears of legacies lost and hard work done for nothing outweighing any reservations. It is all so easy for him to grasp now that he has his own family and his own legacy in the making. He sighs. _Just tell her. Do it. Like a bandaid._

“I didn’t tell you everything that was involved with McKnight.”

“Okay…” Thea shifts to face him, brows furrowed in confusion and eyes narrowed. “What else happened?”

“He told me some things. About Mom and Dad.”

“He knew them?”

Oliver nods. “He did.”

“He doesn’t look too much older than you. How could he have known them?”

Oliver looks away. The sun is rising now, brilliant and strong as it fights against the nighttime darkness and the cold of their winter world. It illuminates the property and feels as if the universe planned for this conversation to take place in such a manner. “When he was a child, about William’s age, our father took him in.”

“Took him in?”

“From the child welfare system.”

“Like, Mom and Dad fostered him?”

Oliver shrugs. “They very nearly adopted him.”

“Why would they do that? They had you.”

Oliver shakes his head. “All of this happened before I was born.”

And then he dives into the story. The fear of infertility and loss of the empire they were building. A genius young mind eager to learn and mold itself into whatever it needed to be to succeed… to please a man that appeared as a generous god in the face of sorrow. The jealousy. The newfound fear of being unloved. All of it. Everything McKnight shared, now out in the open for both Queen children to process.

For a few minutes Thea remains silent, a statue of contemplation. Then she nods. “That photograph makes so much sense now.”

Oliver’s head jerks toward her and he narrows his eyes, so similar to his sister’s expression minutes before. “Photograph?”

“When we thought you and Dad were dead, I remember snooping around his office. It was before Mom made it her own and before she really paid attention to what I was doing. His desk was so organized except for one drawer. It was full of old documents and photos and even some candy wrappers. But sandwiched between some papers and receipts was this photo. It was of a boy around Will’s age. Dad had his arm around him outside of QC.”

He imagines the photo and the pride Robert must have felt with Darren. _A pride he never felt in me._

“But Ollie,” Thea continues, interrupting his spiral of pity and guilt. Her hand rests on his arm, instantly easing his tension with her sibling concern. “Whatever happened between Dad and Darren… whatever hope he had in leaving QC in Darren’s hands… that was destroyed the moment you were born. You were Dad’s greatest hope realized, and you are still a testament to his legacy.”

Oliver tries to smile but it doesn’t stick. “But I lost QC.”

“But you’ve created a family, kept what remains of ours intact and fought tooth and nail for the city Dad loved.” Thea turns Oliver’s face so he is forced to look her in the eye. “You’ve done more than McKnight ever could. And even though the company is gone, I think Dad would be insanely proud of you, Ollie.”

“You think?”

She shakes her head, then amends her words: “I _know_ he’d be proud of you.”

 

\---   

 

Felicity rubs at her eyes and feels the telltale pang of a wine headache. She opens her eyes and instantly covers them with her arm to keep the sun out and her headache from worsening. “Oliver?” she says, voice a groggy, unattractive croak.

There is no answer.

With her eyes still covered she uses her other hand to search for Oliver’s sleeping body beside her and comes up empty. She frowns but listens closely to her surroundings and extends out to other rooms in the cabin.

Dishes clatter. Laughter rings through the rooms and halls. The fire is lit and roaring with crackling fury. And on the air is a sweetness mixed with a savory, greasy aroma. _Breakfast,_ she thinks as she inhales the hearty scent of the most important meal of the day. _Are they eating without me?_

She rushes out of the room, headache and heavy eyes be damned, phone in hand as if it is permanently attached and shuffles to the kitchen. Bits of conversation trickle out and she hears all three of them. Oliver, Thea and William. All in the kitchen. All with the food. Without her.

She knows it is absurd. She knows they probably have a plate for her and Oliver has probably even taken extreme care in brewing her coffee to the point of absolute perfection. But that old fear is still there.

The fear of being left out and discarded. The fear of losing. The fear of neglect.

But then she steps into the doorway and sees her family scurrying about, mixing things and flipping frying meat and pancakes, all in the midst of enthusiastic conversation and completely unaware of her presence. It calls back to mind the photograph of Robert and Moira, blissful and unaware. The outside world existed, but in that single moment, in the same kitchen, suspended in time, nothing could reach them. And Felicity feels that same suspension and bliss as she watches her family.

She lifts her phone, opens the camera app and waits for a moment. They are all gathered around the stove, each monitoring their own tasks and for a second, the conversation lulls. Everyone stops moving. Felicity snaps the photo, closes her eyes and then glances as the moment she has stolen. Perfect. Peaceful. Familial. Everything she has longed for and never expected to have. And it is hers.

“Oh, hey, baby!” Oliver says with his goofy, lovestruck smile that always, without fail, leaves her weak in the knees. He moves toward her with a spatula in his hand. He leans down and kisses her. She can taste pancake batter on his lips and can’t help but savor the taste. “I was going to wake you up once breakfast was ready. We wanted to surprise you.”

“Yeah!” William agrees. Thea looks back and nods.

“Why the surprise?” Felicity asks.

“Why not?” Oliver kisses her forehead. “You deserve all the good things the world can offer, Felicity.”

She watches as he returns to work alongside his son and sister. Her eyes grow misty and that fear of loneliness she felt for so long dissipates, falling away like the last remnants of a season before a new one begins. A gratefulness takes over and her whole body relaxes.

Their world in Star City waits for them, dangerous and terrifying and confusing beyond belief. The uncertainty that looms a half hour away scares her, but she knows that they can survive it. No matter the obstacle, horror or pain… they can survive it together. As a family. Their family.

_My family._

  
  
  
  



	11. Thicker Than Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Episode 11:** A double date is ruined when it’s revealed Felicity and Lyla are being targeted by somebody attempting to steal ARGUS-Smoak Tech collaboration plans. The two couples team-up to tackle the problem. Meanwhile, Oliver and Felicity deal with their own personal insecurities they’ve been hiding from each other since getting married, with the help of the Diggles. 
> 
> (Written by AlexiaBlackbriar13, beta edited by Ilse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode was beta'd by the lovely Ilse. Thank you so much, dear!
> 
> Also, many thanks to Sam (@ghostfoxlovely) for her wonderful support and cheerleading.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! - Lexi xx

**Thicker Than Blood**

* * *

A lithe shadow sweeps across the rooftops of Star City, camouflaged so well in the darkness of the night that it only appears as a blur, leaping from one roof to another. Slipping down onto the top of a fire escape, the figure crouches, switching his bow between his hands. Green Arrow peers down into the alleyway beneath him with a grim expression, where it appears two groups, most likely gangs, are exchanging illegal narcotics and automatic weapons.

Green Arrow grits his teeth, tensing with anger. He’s been so focused on the larger scale criminal activity in his city recently that he hasn’t had the time to properly patrol and monitor the several gangs that have managed to survive within the Glades. Crime has steadily been on the rise lately, with lawbreakers thinking that they’ve slipped off Green Arrow’s radar. That’s all about to change tonight.

He reaches for a grappling arrow in his quiver, nocking it to his bow. As he’s about to fire it, however, his cell phone vibrates in his jacket pocket. Green Arrow hesitates in firing, glancing down. Although he debates for a couple of seconds whether he should answer it, he finally gives in, knowing that it could somebody important calling him, like his wife or son.

Patching it into his comm, he whispers, “Hi, honey.”

“ _Don’t ‘honey’ me, mister! Where are you?_ ”

It’s Felicity. Shifting awkwardly on his feet, the archer questions, “Why does it sound as if I’m meant to be somewhere right now and you’re angry at me for not being there?”

“ _Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re out in the field._ ”

“Where else did you expect me to be?”

“ _Not in the field! Especially since you didn’t TELL me you were going out tonight!_ ”

“Am I meant to be somewhere?” he repeats, wincing.

“ _I don’t know, maybe getting ready for our double date with John and Lyla tonight?!_ ”

Green Arrow pauses. “That’s tonight?”

* * *

Felicity hops around on one foot, holding her cell phone to her ear with one hand while she tries to yank on a pair of black flats with the other, while a tan pair of cone heels hang from her fingers. She’s dressed in a stunning emerald green dress with a low cut back, hair perfectly curled.

“Yes, it’s tonight, Oliver,” she groans. “I must have reminded you about it at least five times this morning.”

“ _I was a little distracted,_ ” Oliver responds, sounding faintly annoyed, although his tone holds a hint of teasing.

Felicity knows exactly what he was distracted by. She blushes a little bit and rolls her eyes. She manages to pull on her shoes and grabs her clutch purse, starting to transfer items into it from her regular one. “No more morning ‘distractions’ for you, then,” she says. “Look, the reservation’s at nine. I’m going to drive William over to Thea’s now and I’m catching a lift with John to the restaurant, as he’s dropping JJ off there at the same time.”

“ _Are you sure Thea’s going to be okay looking after the kids?” he asks worriedly.“I could always call Raisa and ask her to watch them at our place._ ”

“It’ll be fine, Oliver, Thea’s been begging to babysit them for months, although why completely eludes me. Let Raisa have a night off.”

“ _Alright, if you’re sure. What about Lyla, does she need a ride?_ ”

“Lyla’s got ARGUS stuff but promised John she’d be getting dropped off and would be on time. Can you make me that same promise?”

“ _I will make it there_ ,” he reassures her.

Felicity frowns. “Why are you whispering?”

“ _... what?_ ”

“You’ve been whispering this whole time, why are you whispering?”

“ _I’m… sort of about to interrupt a firearms and drugs deal between two Glades’ gangs._ ”

Groaning even louder, she says, “You better not turn up at the restaurant bruised, Mr Queen.”

And again comes that teasing voice: “ _It’s not the thugs I usually get my bruises from, Mrs Queen._ ”

Felicity flushes crimson. She can’t help it. She doesn’t get to respond though, because William appears from his bedroom, backpack over his shoulder and tablet in hand. “Do you think Aunt Thea will let me use her Netflix account?”

“After what happened when you used mine? Not so sure about that, kiddo.”

William rolls his eyes. “It was a prank. You could have deleted it from your history within a second.”

“It came up on 'recently played' and I don’t think your dad has ever thought of me the same since.”

“ _Is that William?_ ” Oliver interrupts their conversation.

“Yup, we’re talking about how he’s banned from using my Netflix account for the foreseeable future and how Thea probably won’t let him use hers either.”

“ _Can you please tell him not to eat too much sugar at Thea’s tonight?_ ”

“I can tell him, but no guarantee he’ll listen,” she laughs. “Will, your dad asks that you don’t eat too much sugar at your aunt’s.”

“Buzzkill,” the thirteen-year-old mutters.

“Yeah, I know,” she grins. “But you know what he’s like, he’s a health nut. Oliver, I have to go. Please don’t be late!”

* * *

“I won’t be,” Green Arrow says, aiming his grappling arrow as he notices that the gangs seem to have finished their deal, and are beginning to separate as they prepare to leave. “I love you, hun.”

“ _Love you too, baby_.”

The archer fires the arrow exactly as the call cuts out, tugs on the line above him to ensure it’s stable, and swings down. He instantly crashes into two of the thugs, sending them sprawling, and punches another. His heart pounds in his chest, the adrenaline surging as he twists and turns, firing arrows into the criminals’ shoulders as they swing their new guns wildly at him, trying to hit him but failing. Green Arrow takes down the group of around a dozen men in less than a minute, delivering a hard kick to the last standing man’s solar plexus before whacking him across the head with his bow.

Standing with the criminals collapsed and unconscious around him, he makes sure none of them can easily grab for their weapons before striding away, satisfied. Somebody would have most definitely heard the gunfire and called it in to the SCPD, so it’s better for him to leave now and let the police handle the rest.

As he walks away, the archer muses quietly to himself, “I should have asked what color dress my wife is wearing so I can coordinate with her.”

* * *

Across the city, a line of three black SUVs approaches ARGUS Headquarters. Within the SUVs, groups of five men are gearing up with semi-automatics and battering rams, all wearing SWAT-grade armor. The vehicles swing around the back of the massive building, away from active CCTV and security, into an alleyway that leads to the delivery entrance. The gate is suspiciously wide open and abandoned by guards.

After a series of violently bashing in doors and taking down agents, five men break into the Director’s office, alarms blazing wildly around them. The office’s owner has left recently, judging by the freshly abandoned empty coffee flask. They quickly begin rifling through the files and cabinets, throwing things aside and essentially trashing Lyla’s desk. They seem to be searching for something.

The locked cabinets are forced open, and searched through. Whatever the men are looking for, they can’t find. In a bout of frustration, one of the men kicks over an entire filing cabinet, scattering papers all over the floor.

“The files aren’t here,” he says, touching a comm unit attached to his helmet. “She must be keeping them off-site.”

A modulated voice responds, “ _Director Michaels isn’t stupid. She knows how important and damaging those files could be. Commence Phase 3_.”

“Yes, Sir. Beta Unit already has eyes on the targets. Beta, Phase 3 is a go.”

* * *

The car door of an Uber swings open, Oliver stepping out and brushing himself down self-consciously. After finishing his patrol rather hastily, and worried about getting to the restaurant on time, he hastily changed into a charcoal grey suit with an emerald tie, never happier that he keeps spare suits in the bunker, just in case.

The Uber pulls away back into the street’s bustling traffic, leaving Oliver standing on the curb. The entrance to the restaurant, a Mediterranean one that John and Lyla recommended, is only a couple of meters away. Before entering, however, the archer decides to check himself over, making sure that there are no bruises or flecks of blood visible.

He’s about to grab the door when he hears, “Oliver!”

Glancing around, he smiles at Lyla, who is hurrying across the street towards him in a lovely black dress. She seems a little flustered. He carefully takes her hand to help her up the curb, as she’s wearing heels, and greets her with a kiss on the cheek. “Hi.”

“We’re ten minutes late,” Lyla tells him. “Our spouses are going to kill us.”

“Busy evening?” he asks, holding the door open for her.

“All work, no play, I’m afraid,” she answers. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Same for you, I’m guessing.”

“Crime rate isn’t going to lower itself,” he nods.

“Especially now you’re going out there by yourself.”

Oliver grimaces. “Is John still as angry with me as I think he must be?”

“He said this morning that he wouldn’t bring the firing up at dinner tonight,” Lyla reassures. “I think he’d rather this double date be tension-free. He doesn’t agree with your decision, and I suspect Felicity doesn’t either… but Johnny appreciates the extra time he’s had to spend with JJ, and the reduced pressure on him due to his injury.”

Both Felicity and John are waiting at the bar, sitting together and chatting with drinks in their hands. They turn to see them when the door jingles as it closes behind them, and immediately they both stand and smile.

“And here I was thinking that ARGUS was holding my wife captive and she wasn’t going to show,” John teases, kissing Lyla gently. “How was your day?”

“Better now that I get to kiss and go out with you,” Lyla responds, stroking a hand down her husband’s arm. John winces - it’s his injured arm his wife is touching. The reminder that John is injured causes Lyla’s happy expression to fall, and she almost immediately takes a step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” John says, trying to reassure her.

Oliver sweeps his eyes up and down his wife appreciatively, a beaming smile on his face. “Hey,” he whispers huskily, drawing her in for an embrace. “Sorry we’re late. I love your dress.”

“Only by ten minutes, which to be honest, is better than I expected,” she laughs. She winds her fingers around his green tie, tugging it lightly. “We matched our outfits and we didn’t even try. I _love_ that suit.” And judging by the heated look in Felicity’s eyes, she’s not lying.

Caressing her exposed shoulder blades with his fingertips, he smirks and prompts, “Yeah?” 

“I love the man wearing it even more, though.”

She leans in to kiss him but then pauses, staring at him.

Oliver immediately blinks in concern. “Everything okay?”

She shakes her head, looking irritated. “You have a small bruise on your neck and there’s blood on your cuff sleeve.”

“What!?” There shouldn’t be. He just checked himself over! He curses softly under his breath when he sees the red stain she just pointed out, probably from a small cut or graze somewhere when one of the criminals nicked him with a knife.

“The one thing I asked,” Felicity says, “Was for you not to turn up bruised. First you forget about the date being tonight; second, you don’t tell me you’re going out in the field on patrol, and now this?” Looking over Oliver’s shoulder and deciding to just ignore him briefly, Felicity waves to the other woman. “Hi, Lyla!”

“That dress is _gorgeous_ ,” Lyla gasps. She quickly abandons her husband, as Felicity does the same to the archer, the two women embracing each other happily. John and Oliver gravitate towards each other so they’re not left awkwardly standing alone.

“I could say the same about yours!” Felicity returns, beaming at her. Tugging Lyla’s hand, she leads her out into the maze of tables. “Come on, let’s sit down. I need to tell you about this new combined processor hard-drive core I’ve been working on.”

The two ladies stride off, the two men deserted in their wakes.

“Hey,” John says in greeting.

“Hi,” Oliver smiles weakly.

“You don’t need to look so worried. I’m not going to bite your head off over the firing me from the team thing tonight. I promised Lyla we’d avoid all topics to do with any kind of work.”

“Right,” Oliver exhales. “That’s not exactly why I’m worried though.”

John raises an eyebrow at him. “Your wife angry with you?”

“You saw that, huh.” He sighs. “I… kind of forgot the double date was tonight, so I went out on patrol… without telling her.”

“Better make sure you’re on your best behavior tonight then, if you want to avoid sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t think Felicity would make me do that.”

Felicity’s head whips around from where she and Lyla are ahead of the men, beginning to sit down at their table. She doesn’t appear to have heard the archer and John’s conversation though, just exclaiming, “Oliver!” so he will join them quicker.

“Coming, honey!”

Exchanging amused looks, Oliver and John retrieve the pair of abandoned drinks, John fetching his own glass of scotch while the archer picks up his wife’s champagne, before following after their women.

* * *

Across the street from the Mediterranean restaurant, a selection of men in similar SWAT-style uniforms stand on the roof of a building. The restaurant’s overhead glass roof gives them the perfect view - they focus their binoculars on their two targets.

Oliver, Felicity, Lyla, and John are laughing and enjoying a bottle of wine together. The binoculars sweep between the two couples.

“Phase 3 confirmed. Beta Unit will acquire targets.”

* * *

“... And that is how JJ managed to convince everybody at ARGUS that I was pregnant with his little brother, even though I wasn’t,” Lyla finishes her story, taking a sip of wine.

“Wow, your son gets into so much trouble,” Oliver laughs. He dances his fingers over Felicity’s shoulders, turning his head ever so slightly so brush his stubble over his wife’s forehead as she leans into his side. “I think the most William has done to get us into an embarrassing situation was tell my assistant at City Hall that if I say I’m going out to dinner with Felicity, it’s code for we’re going to have sex on my desk.”

John practically spits out his wine, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“He’s thirteen, he finds that sort of thing funny,” Felicity rolls her eyes, smiling.

“I’m so glad that JJ isn’t a teenager yet,” Lyla says.

“They can be difficult,” Oliver acknowledges. “But to be honest, I think we’re lucky with William. He’s a relatively well-behaved kid.”

“Absolute miracle, considering who his father is,” Felicity teases.

“I’m not the one encouraging him that ice-cream is a suitable food for dinner.”

“That was _one time_ , Oliver!”

The archer raises an incredulous eyebrow at her, to Lyla and John’s amusement.

Felicity splutters, “Okay, maybe twice, but that’s only because you force your horrific kale protein smoothies on him.”

Oliver looks insulted. “I thought you _liked_ those smoothies.”

“Married life suits you two almost too well,” Lyla laughs as she glances between the pair.

“And not just married life,” John nods, “Family life as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two as content as you are now, even with all this trouble in your vigilante lives.”

The couple exchange smiles, Felicity slipping her fingers around Oliver’s hand to grip it tightly as she explains, “We pretty much agreed that we aren’t going to let this war with the Master interfere with things at home. Despite Oliver’s work as the Green Arrow and my focusing on getting my company up and running, we still make sure we can drop off and pick up William from school, and spend time with him afterward.”

“We both try to get home in time for family dinner, every night,” Oliver agrees, gazing at his wife fondly. “Balance is important and I think we’re starting to manage that really well. Family is always the top priority.”

“We’re sticking to that,” Felicity continues. “No matter what happens in the future… whatever goes down with the Master, whatever happens in regards to our jobs, if our financial or security situation changes, or even if our family gets bigger… our relationships with each other always come first.”

John and Lyla both appear impressed. Oliver and Felicity seem to have most things already figured out when it comes to their personal lives. It took them a lot less time than it did the Diggles, that was for sure.

John, however, can’t help but tease them both a little, “‘If our family gets bigger’? Should I be asking when the baby is due?”

“Very funny,” Felicity rolls her eyes. 

“You can’t ask that _yet_ , Johnny,” Lyla says, a faint smirk on her face. “It’s when they start looking to move into a bigger house with three bedrooms rather than two, that you get to ask.”

“Who’s to say we haven’t?” Oliver shoots back at her.

Lyla blinks in shock, John equally stunned beside her. “Wait, you have?”

“We have?” Felicity echoes, turning to her husband with an expression of confusion and astonishment.

Oliver looks back at her, biting his lip almost nervously. “Well, yeah. A bit. I’ve just been doing a little research, you know? Into which areas around Star City have the best market for larger homes. Houses in safe neighborhoods, with lots of green areas nearby, with good transport links so William can easily get to school, and us to work.”

“Sounds like you’ve been doing more than a ‘little’ research,” Lyla comments, casting a nervous glance towards Felicity, who is staring at her husband.

Shrugging sheepishly, Oliver answers, “There are a couple of places I’ve marked down for consideration.”

“You’ve been looking at houses?” Felicity says, a spark of anger in her eyes, her voice lilted with disbelief. She begins rolling her wedding ring around her finger in an anxious tick. “Without me?”

“Not seriously -”

“Oliver. Don’t lie. You have been.”

“I just thought it might be a good idea.”

“Then why didn’t you _tell me_ you think it’s a good idea for us to start looking at houses?” Felicity basically spits at him. “You just _casually_ decided that leaving me out of this decision was a good idea? Again.”

“I - I don’t know,” Oliver says. He sounds a little hesitant now, as if regretful of his past actions. It’s clear by his expression and the way his eyes flit about the restaurant anxiously that he doesn’t want to start a fight with his wife. “You’ve been busy lately with Smoak Tech, I just thought -”

“I’m never too busy for our family,” Felicity interrupts. “If you wanted to look at houses, Oliver, you should have _told me_ and not gone behind my back to do it.”

“Hey, I didn’t go behind your back!” Oliver raises his hands in surrender. “It was just a couple of casual viewings! If it had got serious, I would have immediately told you about it so we could discuss it together.”

Sighing, Felicity asks him, “Did you ever pause to think that maybe I don’t _want_ to move house yet?”

Lyla and John both tense up.

Oliver looks thrown. “You... don’t?”

“Buying a house is a massive life commitment. I’m not sure we’re ready for that yet.”

“Why not? I think we are. As a family, we’re going to need a bigger home.”

Felicity wouldn’t look at him, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. It’s something Oliver’s noticed she does whenever she gets nervous, when she’s in a situation that puts her on edge. “I don’t know, we’re fine in the apartment at the moment. We’re not exactly screaming for more space. I don’t think there’s really any need to move until we’re absolutely certain we need to.”

Oliver begins to appear frustrated. “Are you going to be this adverse to every major life decision we have to make as a couple then?”

Her eyes flashing dangerously, she questions quietly, “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Just that you weren’t exactly on board with the whole marriage thing at first, and now you don’t want us to buy a family home together?”

“Oh my god, Oliver, those two situations are _completely_ different!”

“I don’t think we should be having this argument here,” Oliver says. He glances pointedly over at John and Lyla, who are avoiding looking over at them, obviously very uncomfortable with the situation.

“We shouldn’t be having this argument at _all_.”

Breaking the uneasy atmosphere, Lyla’s cell phone starts to ring. It’s practically a miracle, both Oliver and Felicity, and especially John appearing relieved that there’s been an interruption. Pulling her phone out, Lyla murmurs a quiet excuse about work before standing and vacating the restaurant, taking the call outside.

* * *

“And you’re absolutely sure it was my office they were intending to break into?” Lyla questions seriously, casting a glance back as she heads away from the restaurant to the entrance of an alleyway nearby, which provides a quieter environment for the call.

“The entire place was ransacked,” an agent informs her on the other side of the line. “CCTV suggests they were searching for something - whatever it is, we don’t think that they found it.”

“What were they searching through?” she asks, suddenly suspicious.

“Mostly filing cabinets and your desk.”

“They were looking for documents then.”

The muzzle of a gun presses into the small of Lyla’s back. Another nudges against her head. “Hang up the phone, give it to me. Walk backward away from the street and stay quiet, or I shoot you straight in the skull.”

Frozen, Lyla swallows and abruptly ends the call. She releases the cell phone so it clatters onto the alleyway floor. One of the men keeps his gun on her as he bends over to pick it up with a disgruntled sound. Very slowly, Lyla steps backward, aware of the two weapons trained on her, but also noting where the men attacking her are positioned. As she’s about to swing around to land a punch and reach for the handgun hidden in a thigh holster, another two men approach out of the darkness in front of her, also aiming guns at her.

She raises her hands. She’s outnumbered and definitely outgunned. Her gun is grabbed off her and she’s forcefully twisted around and marched further into the alley, away from the busy road so there are no witnesses.

One of the men reaches up to tap at a comm unit, saying into it, “Michaels has been acquired. Smoak is still inside.” He listens to the response for a moment before nodding and looking over at Lyla. She almost reels back from surprise. She recognizes him. Her shock isn’t visible, however, as the man passes back over her phone and orders her, “I want you to call Smoak and get her out here. We’ll shoot up that entire restaurant if we suspect you’re tipping her off even just a little bit.”

“What should I tell her?” Lyla asks calmly.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” the man hisses at her. “Just get her out here or we kill everybody in that restaurant, including your husband and hers.”

Lyla keeps the screen visible to the man as he watches on carefully, gun aimed at her, while she finds Felicity’s number in her recently called list. She tries to take as long as possible without making him antsy that she’s up to something, attempting to think of a way she can alert her friends and husband to the danger without being obvious she’s tipping them off.

Felicity picks up, and asks what’s going on.

“Hi, Felicity!” Lyla says, making her voice extremely cheery and happy. “Sorry I had to step out for just a second! The babysitter called about baby Sara, apparently she’s refusing to go sleep without hearing from her mom and Aunt Felicity. Do you think you could come and join me outside to send a little video message for her, to help her get to sleep? It’s a lot quieter here and I don’t want to worry John without good reason.”

The cell phone’s grabbed off her before she can even properly finish her sentence. She scowls at the man but he just shifts his gun in his arms, silently threatening her to be quiet She watches, seething, as the cell phone is crunched under another thug’s boots, destroyed beyond repair.

“She would have found the sudden hanging up suspicious,” Lyla points out.

“Shut the hell up,” one of her captors says gruffly, as he shoves her towards the alley entrance. “Stand there. Wave Smoak over, get her over here. You make any move to run, you’re dead, and so is everybody else out there on the sidewalk with you.”

Lyla nods, satisfied that Felicity, Oliver, and John will have received her message that something bad is going down. Waiting on the corner, within view of the men in the alleyway, she waits, despite the fact she knows Felicity will not come.

After five minutes of nothing, and no appearance from her friend, Lyla smirks to herself. The men, however, seem to have had enough. She’s gripped firmly by the elbow and dragged back into the darkness, before being flung up against the wall.

“Where’s Smoak? Why isn’t she coming?” one of the men demands.

“I told you the hanging up was suspicious,” she says.

“ _Fuck_.” The man rams her up against the brickwork, bracing his forearm against her neck. “Fine then. You’re coming with us. We’ll get Smoak another time.”

Half a second later, the man jerks away from her, clutching his side with a shout of pain. which has been struck with a small throwing knife. The remaining men whip around, swinging their guns wildly as they look for the source of their leader's attacker, but they are quickly struck down as well, sending them sprawling to the ground with cries of agony. Lyla can see small throwing knives sticking out of their bodies and reacts quickly, darting forward to kick the man in front of her in the head to knock him out. Her rescuer ensures that the rest of the attackers don't get back up.

Oliver slinks out of the shadows, twirling a final blade between his fingers. His voice is dark and deadly as he says, “I don’t think my wife is going anywhere with you.” Turning to Lyla, his brow creases with concern as he asks, “You okay?”

She nods, brushing herself down. Stepping away from the wall, Lyla makes sure she strikes one of the men deliberately in the crotch as she walks past him. “Thanks for the save.”

“You probably didn’t need it, but I thought I’d lend a hand.”

“Where did the throwing knives come from? Do you just keep them on your person at all times?”

“They come in handy sometimes,” Oliver responds, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“How many of them do you have?”

“Enough,” is his simple reply.

Lyla collects her handgun from the man who confiscated it off of her. “We need to get out of here. They were on comms with other people, so they’ll have back up on the way.”

“Felicity and John went to grab your car,” the archer tells her. They casually stride back out onto the open street, glancing around and over their shoulders for any other attackers while also trying not to attract too much attention. “We’ll have to ditch it to make sure we’re not followed.”

“Luckily it’s an ARGUS company car,” she comments. “It can be replaced. Felicity got my warning, then?”

“Yes, instantly. Pretty smart of you to use 'baby Sara' as an SOS codeword. Any idea why they were after you and Felicity?”

“I have theories.”

A dark grey Volvo drives up to the curve, stopping quickly beside them. It’s only due to Oliver and Lyla recognizing the car, that the two of them don’t immediately reach for their weapons. The window rolls down, revealing John at the wheel and Felicity in the passenger seat, appraising them for injuries.

“Somebody ordered a getaway car?” John says with a wink.

Lyla rolls her eyes fondly at her husband. “Can you stop being cute so we can get out of here, before those guys’ back-up arrives?”

A black van screeches around a crossroads onto the street a block down, skidding over the curb and heading straight towards them.

“Okay, that’s our signal to go!” Felicity says hurriedly. “Time to get in, guys!”

Oliver yanks the back door open and ushers Lyla inside, jumping in after her. John slings the car out into the traffic before the archer even has the chance to close the door properly. As cars in front of them get in their way, John flicks a switch that turns on sirens with red and blue flashing lights up the sides of the windscreen. Vehicles move out of their way hastily, allowing them to swerve off the street and down another, less busy one. The black van stays in hot pursuit.

“Head out of the city,” Oliver orders, gazing out of the back of the car with narrowed eyes. They’re not going to lose this van without at least a couple of crazy maneuvers. “We need to get away from the public.”

“On it,” John replies shortly.

He pitches the car around another sharp left corner, followed by a right one. They’re definitely heading out of the city, as the roads become emptier and the street lights disappear.

“I think you two should probably buckle up,” Felicity says, glancing back at the other passengers.

Neither Lyla nor Oliver put their seatbelts on. Instead, they roll down the windows, leaning out of them. Lyla aims her gun at the tires of the black van and begins shooting. Her bullets skim the rims, narrowly missing. Realizing they’re being shot at, their pursuers start swinging from side to side to avoid being hit.

“Or you could do the complete opposite of that!” Felicity squeaks.

“Felicity, pass Oliver the spare handgun from the glove box,” John says, his eyes fixed on the asphalt ahead.

She hands it quickly to her husband and then returns to holding on for dear life as they’re tossed around yet another corner. Oliver joins Lyla in shooting at the tires. After a couple more attempts, Lyla manages to hit one of them, the bullet bursting a tire and causing the van to lurch sideways. All four of the Volvo’s occupants wince in horror as the van bounces off the curb and flips over onto its side.

Lyla and Oliver come back through the windows and finally buckle their seatbelts.

“Keep driving, John, we have to make sure we’re not being tailed.”

“Hamilton-Nelson Bridge is a couple blocks away and is relatively off the grid,” Felicity suggests, pulling out her phone and tapping on it swiftly. “I can make sure we can’t be traced getting there. And there’ll be a couple cars parked nearby that we can ‘borrow’ if we need to.”

“We’ll need to,” John says. “Dammit! This is our third car this year. And I was just getting used to the clutch.”

* * *

Within a dark room, closed off from the rest of a wider warehouse, a silhouette sits on a chair in front of a giant, flashing computer setup, screens flashing with CCTV footage from both ARGUS and the restaurant that Oliver, Felicity, Lyla, and John were both in. Another screen shows ARGUS floor plan blueprints. The man sitting down increases the size of the display, showing the two couples escaping in the Volvo, CCTV following them down the street and then abruptly cutting off.

“ _Phase 3 failed, Sir,_ ” a man reports from a speaker on the desk. “ _Michaels was acquired and an attempt was made to lure Smoak in, but we did not anticipate her being alerted to our presence. The plan did not factor in Diggle having such quick access to a vehicle, nor Queen getting physically involved. More than half of the Beta Unit deployed in the Phase is now out of action due to him._ ”

“That was why you were supposed to get Michaels and Smoak _away_ from Queen, to avoid a confrontation with him,” a modulated voice from the man responds stiffly. “Did you attempt to follow their vehicle?”

“ _Our mobile team was taken down and the vehicle fell off the grid shortly after that. Undoubtedly, they will be abandoning the car and moving to a safe house of some kind with no way to track them._ ”

“There is always a way to track somebody,” the man replies darkly. “I trust that neither of the targets were harmed in your attempt to pursue them?”

“ _They escaped unhurt, Sir. If I may ask, Sir, would it not be more efficient to aim at drawing them out into the open, rather than tracking them down? I could easily have a unit sent to find and procure their children to be used as negotiating -_ ”

“No, none of the children will be involved in this,” the man says, his tone sharp. “I will be able to trace Michaels and Smoak without the need of any more violence. Leave locating the targets to me. Phase 3 is still operational, but we will focus more on acquiring Smoak than Michaels. For that, we need Queen out of the way. Wait until I give you further commands.”

“ _Yes, Sir._ ”

* * *

Bathed in dim green lights, the bunker remains in standby as its usual occupants, the team, are elsewhere that night. Weapons are locked up, the counters cleared and suits hidden away. Up on the platform, Felicity’s computers sit idly, the screen brightness' low as background search algorithms flicker.

Without any warning, error alerts appear on the screens, large and flashing red to indicate their danger. _WARNING: SYSTEM BREECH_. Pre-programmed code flits across it, trying to force out the intruder, but without the codewriter present to fight the invasion, it’s not enough.

_{ACCESSING BIOIMPLANT TRACKING SYSTEMS}_

_/ >>>>>>ACCESSING INDIVIDUAL TRACKING_

_/ >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>:-->LOCATING OLIVER JONAS QUEEN [ GREEN ARROW ]_

_/ >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>:-->LOCATING FELICITY MEGAN SMOAK [ OVERWATCH ]_

* * *

Oliver and Lyla stand side by side, peering down over the side of the Hamilton-Nelson Bridge into the murky, pitch black waters swirling below them. The Volvo has been parked a block down under a street lamp in a decent area of the city, so there’s hope that they might be able to recover it eventually after this whole fiasco is over, if it hasn’t been stolen by then.

The archer startles slightly as his wife approaches from behind, hurrying up to him and leaning into his side as she pockets her cell phone. Her emerald dress is a little worse for wear already, although Oliver reckons he appears equally frazzled, his tie left in the car and his top shirt buttons undone.

“So I called Thea and then Quentin,” she informs him. “Quentin’s going to head over to her place now and they’re going to move the kids to your office in City Hall, just in case they’re targeted. I texted your assistant and bodyguards. Security there will keep them safe.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Just that there’s a situation that you and I have to deal with where we need the kids, Thea and Quentin to be extra safe.”

Oliver makes a face. “Let me guess, they asked if the police are needed to deal with this ‘situation’?”

“More like if we wanted them to send a SWAT team. I told them ARGUS is handling it. They pretty much calmed down after hearing that,” Felicity reassures. “And before you ask, I secured all of our phones by deactivating their GPS’s, we can use them without being tracked.”

“What about the others?” Lyla asks.

“I’ve just got off the phone with Rene,” John announces, joining them. He looks concerned, his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s going to meet up with Dinah and Curtis and they’re going to take Zoe to one of our safehouses.”

“I know those guys aren’t _technically_ part of the team anymore since you kind of fired them, but are you sure keeping them out of this is a good idea?” Felicity asks her husband. “We could use some back-up.”

Oliver nods, absolutely certain. “They shouldn’t be placed in unnecessary danger. The four of us can handle this just fine.”

John crosses his arms over his chest. “Not going to protest against Lyla, Felicity and I getting involved and insist on this being a solo mission?”

“You’re already involved,” Oliver says. “I’m not stupid enough to think you’d walk away from this.”

“Damn right, we’re not walking away,” John responds. “If the four of us team up, we can handle this without needing the others. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but in this instance, I think you’re right that we should keep Dinah, Curtis and Rene out of it as much as possible, Oliver. We can handle this.”

“Are you sure?” Felicity taps her arm worriedly, trying to indicate John’s injury. “With your -”

“I’ll be fine for this, Felicity,” he promises her. “It’s a lot better now.”

“It’s great the rest of the team and the kids are safe and we’re going to keep them out of this for their safety, but it’s not them that those guys are after. They want Felicity and me,” Lyla points out.

Oliver nods. “You said you have a theory why?”

Lyla exchanges a weary look with Felicity. “I have the most horrible feeling it’s to do with Smoak Tech. When I left the restaurant before I was attacked, I received a call from ARGUS security. My office was broken into and searched meticulously. I think they couldn’t find what they were looking for, which was why they came after me in person. I think they want the file with the Smoak Tech-ARGUS investor contract and enhanced encryption schematics. Luckily, that file is currently locked in a high-security safe under the floorboards in our apartment. Even if they destroyed that apartment, they wouldn’t be able to get their hands on it.”

A disappointed and irritated expression on her face, Felicity asks, “You’re certain it’s Smoak Tech related?”

“Why else would they target both of us at the same time?”

“Who is _they?_ ” Felicity questions, frustrated. “Could this be the Master?”

Oliver shakes his head, running a hand through his hair with a sigh of bemusement. “I’m not sure. It could be, I guess. McKnight indicated he would be targeting my family and friends. ”

“That doesn’t explain a possible infiltration to my agency records,” Lyla says. “I recognized one of those men back at the restaurant. He was an ex-ARGUS agent.”

“As weird as this may sound, I think I recognized one of them too,” Oliver says. “Probably not the same one you did, Lyla, but one from the brief time I spent in ARGUS’ HQ in Hong Kong.”

“So multiple ex-ARGUS agents are trying to kidnap us?” Felicity asks.

“Who?” John questions.

Lyla shoots him a look. “Johnny, as much as I’d love to pretend I’m excellent at remembering every single one of my current and past employees, I have thousands of people working for me and it would be very obnoxious to do that.”

Clearing his throat, Oliver suggests, “We have to assume that if two ex-ARGUS agents are involved, others are as well. They’re being employed by somebody… possibly the Master, but maybe not, we can’t assume.”

“Would it be sensible to say that these agents are connected to their employer somehow, maybe came in contact with them during a past mission?” Felicity suggests.

“That would make sense,” Lyla nods thoughtfully.

“And whoever their employer is must be connected to either of you two,” John adds. “Why would they be targeting ARGUS and Smoak Tech, otherwise?”

“Especially since Smoak Tech isn’t even properly up and running yet,” Felicity huffs. “I’ve only just finished writing up my proposal to Palmer Tech. You know, writing basically an essay about stock being exchanged for licensed IP rights to the biostimulant chip is not fun.”

“What would happen if that encryption software you’re working on for ARGUS got into the wrong hands?” Oliver asks.

“We’d be finished,” Felicity answers, annoyed. “Smoak Tech would probably fail. If this whole thing is the Master, he’ll be targeting me and my company because of his connection to you. Um, no offense, honey.”

“None taken. But if this is being orchestrated by the Master, he’s most likely using a middle-man.”

“And that middle man is the one we want to find.” Lyla glances between them all.

“Alright,” Oliver nods. “So we need a plan.”

“Yes, we do,” Lyla confirms. “I think the two biggest things we have to do right now is find out who those ex-agents are and secure all the Smoak Tech files.”

“We should split up,” John says. “You and I could head to ARGUS, Oliver, and Felicity to the Smoak Tech offices?”

“Actually,” Lyla says, shifting nervously, “I was going to propose Oliver and I go to ARGUS and you go with Felicity.”

All three of them jolt, surprised by her suggestion. Oliver can’t help but glance over at his wife, gauging her expression. Felicity looks a little confused, but not too bothered by this, which sends the archer’s heart sinking in his chest.

“How come?” John asks, puzzled.

“Oliver and I recognized those ex-agents. I doubt right now he can remember the guy’s name -” The archer confirms this, shaking his head - “But I reckon he’d be able to identify him from a photo. ARGUS keeps paper files of all our agents, past and present, down in the Documentation and Data Records Department. But you need a high-security clearance to get in there. Oliver’s been listed as a top-level ARGUS asset ever since Amanda Waller picked him up from Lian Yu, so he’s the only one of you three who would be able to accompany me down there.”

“I don’t get a high-security clearance even as your husband?” John says, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t get a high-security clearance even as your best friend?” Felicity pouts.

Lyla levels them both with unimpressed looks.

Felicity throws her hands into the air in the surrender position. “Hey, we’re just kidding! Okay, you take my husband to ARGUS with you, and I’ll take yours to Smoak Tech HQ with me and we’ll secure the plans and files there.”

“Meet up in the bunker after we’re all finished?” John proposes.

“Agreed. Felicity, I’ll keep texting you to let us know our progress with finding the names of those ex-agents.”

“And I’ll keep you updated on the Team Delicity front.”

Oliver stares at her.

Lyla gazes at her with a similarly blank face. “I’m sorry, Team what?”

“Team Delicity!” Felicity repeats, as if they’re the ones being silly and not her. “You know - Diggle. Felicity. Merge them together. Delicity.”

“Never say that again,” John says. “Please.” He steps across from her, so he can gently grasp his wife’s wrist and draw her towards him, bending in to kiss her lovingly. “See you later. Stay safe.”

“Should be me telling you that,” Lyla hums, returning the kiss and giving him one last peck before pulling away.

Oliver accepts Felicity into his arms, embracing her warmly before pressing his lips to hers. His arm slips around the blonde’s waist, anchoring her hips to his and slightly dipping her as he kisses her. Felicity responds back with vigor, leaning up into it and burying one of her hands in his hair to grip it with her fingers. It’s probably too passionate a kiss than is appropriate in front of their friends, but neither Oliver nor Felicity mind.

“Love you,” Oliver murmurs, nuzzling into her neck.

“Love you too,” Felicity responds softly, stroking down his neck. “Try and stay out of trouble, yeah? And listen to Lyla.”

“Of course. If you and John end up in danger, SOS text me, okay?”

“The usual safeword?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and allows himself to tighten his hug around her for a second before releasing her.

“Alright, John, ready to go and borrow a car?”

“‘Borrow’,” John echoes, smirking as the two of them stride away from their spouses, down the bridge and back towards the busy city. “You are aware there is less than a five percent chance this car will end up returned to its original owner.”

“Way to make a girl feel guilty,” is the last thing Oliver and Lyla hear before Felicity and John walk out of earshot.

Lyla turns to Oliver. “I was just going to call one of my agents to come and pick us up. Unless you’d rather go your wife’s route and steal a vehicle.”

The archer laughs.

* * *

A huge black SUV pulls up to ARGUS HQ, agents rushing forwards to open up the doors for the passengers. Lyla steps out first, pinning her Director badge onto her dress and draping the lanyard with her security pass over her neck. She waits as Oliver clambers out after her, brushing down his suit.

As they begin walking to the front doors, one of the agents hurries up to Oliver, handing him his own lanyard. “Here’s your security pass, Agent Queen.”

He takes it but can’t suppress his shudder at the title of ‘agent’. Although he trusts Lyla and her version of ARGUS, he has due cause to be wary because of his past experiences with Waller and Shrieve. “I hope this whole ARGUS asset gig doesn’t mean you’ll be sending me on Task Force X style missions anytime soon.”

“And risk incurring Felicity’s wrath?” Lyla responds, quirking an eyebrow. “Your wife would digitally destroy this entire organization if I so much as suggested dragging you into an operation.”

“Only if you didn’t give me a choice,” Oliver shrugs.

It takes a while to pass through the next couple of security checkpoints. Agents obviously recognize Lyla as their Director and judging by their curious and confused looks towards Oliver, they recognize him too. They’re probably wondering why exactly the Mayor of Star City is accompanying their Director on a late night visit.

“Everything okay with you and Felicity?” Lyla asks casually, as they scan their passes to get into the high-security corridor that leads to her office.

The archer narrows his eyes at her. “Fine,” he answers defensively.

“Right.” They wait for their passes to clear and door to open. “So house hunting, huh?”

“Lyla,” Oliver says, resigned.

“You didn’t honestly think Felicity would react well to finding out you were going house hunting without her – and without even telling her, did you?”

“Felicity’s made it clear that she’s really busy with Smoak Tech right now and needs to focus on her career. I thought that looking around at some houses, just seeing what’s out there and available, might make it easier for us if and when we do decide to move. Whether that’s in a couple months or in several years.”

“She didn’t seem very happy hearing that you’d gone behind her back to do that though, did she?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I knew she’d be a little irritated, but I didn’t expect her to be that pissed off.”

“If you knew it would annoy her, why’d you do it?”

“Maybe because I knew that if I asked her about moving house, she’d shoot me down, and I wanted to live that dream a little bit before throwing it out of the window.”

Lyla pauses after walking through the door when she realizes Oliver hasn’t followed her through. Instead, he’s standing rooted in place, looking hopeless and rather upset. She lets out a soft sound. “Oliver...”

“Lyla, I want our family to move forward. I want Felicity, William and I to move into a nice house in a nice family-friendly neighborhood. I want us to get a pet for William to play with, and plan to have other kids.” His expression grows tortured, his voice becoming choked. “But after Felicity was so reluctant to get married to me during that whole Earth-X mess – after she said no to me with such certainty when I proposed and told me she didn’t want to be married, to me or anyone... I’m terrified that if I bring up any of those things that could move our relationship and family forwards, she’ll freak out and decide the marriage was a mistake.”

She doesn’t know what to say. Eventually, Lyla gently replies, “Oliver, I promise you, there is absolutely no way Felicity would ever think getting married to you was a mistake. And I think it’s really important that you talk to her about this.”

He nods, but continues to look miserable.

“How long have you been feeling this way?” she asks gently.

“A while,” he mutters. “I know communication is vital when it comes to a relationship but I don’t want to communicate _too much_ and then screw this up.”

“You shouldn’t have to feel insecure in your marriage,” Lyla tells him. “You seriously should talk to Felicity about this. Only because I get the feeling that she’s most likely been feeling insecure too lately. Your marriage is new and it might take a little while to learn how to navigate it properly, but you two need to stay on the same page if possible.”

Oliver opens his mouth to respond, but their conversation is interrupted by an agent greeting them, just as they reach the threshold of Lyla’s office.

“Director Michaels,” he says, sounding nervous. “The men who broke in here escaped, but we managed to identify two accomplices of theirs that allowed them to bypass security.”

“Active agents? Who?”

“Richard Thompson and David Martinez. They’re being held in Interrogation at the moment by the Deputy Director.”

Lyla nods. “Okay, thank you, Agent Samuels. I’d like you to escort Agent Queen and I down to Documentation and Data Records after we’re finished here.”

“Yes, Director. You should know... they’ve sent for somebody to clean your office later. It... kind of needs it.”

Agent Samuels is not lying. The office looks as if a bomb has exploded in there, furniture overturned and papers scattered and ripped to shreds over the floor. Lyla winces, running a hand over her face tiredly.

“Those investor contacts and encryption schematics are important enough to whoever employed those men that they ordered them to trash the place while searching for them,” Oliver observes. “Most likely caused most of the damage after getting angry when they realized they weren’t here.”

Kneeling down slowly, Lyla carefully picks up a framed photo of her, John and their son, running her fingertips over the cracked glass with a stony expression on her face. Oliver jumps in fright when Lyla suddenly wheels around and smashes the rest of the photo frame on what’s left of her office coffee table. Her intentions are quickly revealed, however – she gently withdraws the photo and tucks it into her purse for safekeeping.

“We should head down to Records,” she says. “Now we have two names of active agents who were helping in this operation and we can identify two more ex-agents, it should be easier to figure out what their connection is with this.”

* * *

A red Ford pick-up truck hurtles down the streets of Star City, traveling a little over the speed limit but still obeying most traffic laws as to not draw any attention. John sits at the driving wheel, munching on a packet of pretzels they found in the glove box when they first stole the car, not far from the bridge. He’s taken his suit jacket off and rolled up his shirt sleeves – the double date seems far in the past now with all this action going on. Felicity is curled up in the passenger seat, her emerald dress ruffled; she smiles fondly as she listens to her stepson on her cell phone.

“ _And Dad isn’t picking up, Aunt Thea and Quentin won’t tell me anything and I’m just really worried, Felicity,_ ” William says, his voice tinged with frustration. “ _I don’t like the idea of both of you in danger and deliberately not telling me what that danger IS_.”

“Hey, relax, kiddo,” Felicity soothes. “Your dad is fine, I promise you. He’s with Aunt Lyla right now at ARGUS, which is probably why he’s not picking up. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s no cell reception deep in HQ where he’s at right now. Your Aunt Thea and Quentin don’t really know what’s going on, is why they aren’t telling you anything. And Will, you honestly don’t need to worry, okay? Oliver, John, Lyla and I have got this handled. It’s completely under control.”

There’s a beat of suspicious silence before William asks quietly, “ _Are you doing that stupid thing adults do where they lie to the kid about having a bad situation under control so the kid doesn’t freak out?_ ”

“When have I ever lied to you, Will?”

“ _... Good point. Okay, if you say everything’s gonna be fine, I believe you._ ”

“It will be,” she says. “When this is over, Oliver and I will come and pick you up from City Hall and we’ll go out for ice-cream.”

“ _Cool. Love you, Felicity._ ”

“Love you too, William. Try and get some sleep if you can, alright? I know from experience that those couches in your Dad’s office are super comfy. He keeps a blanket tucked behind the back pillows.”

“ _Okay. Goodnight._ ”

“Goodnight.”

Felicity hangs up, tucking her phone back into her purse.

“Kid getting all concerned?” John asks sympathetically.

“Can you blame him?” she replies, mussing her hair. 

“Not at all. I imagine JJ will be the same when he’s older and actually understand what his mom and I do for a living.” He shakes his head. “Poor little guy... he has no clue his parents are placed in mortal peril almost every day of their lives. Constantly worries me that if Lyla and I don’t make it home from the field one day, all JJ will know for the rest of his life is that his mom and dad deliberately put themselves in danger and risked not coming back to him, which is what killed us in the end.”

Felicity stares at him in shock. “Damn, John. That’s deep.”

“That’s what you think about all the time when you have a kid,” John shrugs. “Bet you Oliver worries about the same thing.”

Felicity immediately glances away, her eyes glazing over slightly. “Oliver. Right.”

“You know he didn’t mean to upset you when he went looking for houses without you, right?” John continues. “He meant well by the whole thing.”

“I know that,” she sighs. “But he still should have at least told me he was going to look at houses. Asked me if I was interested in moving before taking it upon himself to go searching.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that. I thought you were totally right to call him out on leaving you out of the decision again. But you seemed... particularly angry at the idea of getting a new, bigger place suitable for a growing family... more than I would have expected.”

“What do you want me to say, John?” she snaps, suddenly fiery as she whips around and glares at him. “That I’m not ready to increase our family yet? That I’m scared that moving into a bigger place will give Oliver the idea that I’m ready for a baby, when I’m not?” Her shoulders slump. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint him like that.”

“Oliver would not be disappointed in you for not wanting a baby yet,” John says.

“Really? I just... I feel like since I’ve been focusing on Smoak Tech lately, even with all these special family dinners and designated family time, I’m not paying enough attention to him or William. I feel like telling him I’d rather focus on my career and our dynamic as a family of three would be letting him down. He’s made it perfectly clear he wants to have another kid at some point.”

“Yeah, _at some point_ ,” John repeats. “And wanting to focus on your career is not a crime, Felicity. You’re allowed to want things. You’re allowed to make decisions in your family.” He turns to her, a frown on his face. “You know, you should probably be talking to Oliver about all of this rather than me.”

Felicity doesn’t deny it – she can’t. She knows what John is saying is right. He’s most often right about these sort of things. His advice is always valuable. “I just wish he’d asked or told me about house hunting before going off and doing it,” she murmurs. “And I really wish he hadn’t revealed it during our double date. We put you and Lyla in an awkward position when we started arguing. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I’ve stuck with you two through thick and thin for six years now. I’ve witnessed you kissing, disagreeing, flirting, fighting and much, much more than I wanted to, once or twice,” John teases her. “You two clawing back and forth at each other a little over dinner isn’t going to scare me off.”

“Thank you for the marriage advice.”

John sighs in response. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’m the best person to be giving that sort of advice right now. Things between Lyla and I have been rough because of -” he motions down to his bad arm. “We’re definitely better now but it was difficult for both of us for a while.” He pulls the car to a halt, glancing out the window. “We’re here.”

“Great.” Felicity starts climbing out of the vehicle but her arm is caught, yanking her back in. “Er, John?”

“They found us at that restaurant, they could find us here, too,” he reminds her. “It’s why we sent the kids, Thea and Quentin to City Hall, remember? We have to consider everywhere compromised. Stay behind me at all times.”

“Right, got it. Let you be my human shield,” Felicity nods. “Can we head in? I kind of want to change out of this dress.”

John finally lets her get out of the car. “And I thought you didn’t want to disappoint Oliver,” he says dryly.

Felicity whacks him in the arm with her purse with a scowl.

“Ow.”

* * *

Down in the ARGUS Documentation and Data Records Department, Oliver flicks through the files of the two active agents who have been apprehended after helping intruders break into Lyla’s office, while Lyla skims through a huge photo identification book to try and find the two ex-agents who attacked her outside the restaurant.

“These two both worked on several of the same missions,” Oliver reads. “Six, to be precise. I guess if the other two men were on any of those missions, we’ll have found the connection between them.”

“I found my man,” Lyla informs him. She taps his photo within the book before standing and heading over to the filing cabinets, searching for half a minute or so. She finally pulls out a file, opening it in front of them both. “His name’s Larry Kingston. I remember him now. He was quite a high-security clearance agent.”

Oliver checks between the files. “That narrows it down from six of the same missions to three.”

“This is a list of all the names of the men working at ARGUS’ Hong Kong branch during the year you were there,” Lyla says, sliding it over to him across the table. “I had to search through a lot of blacklisted documents to get these. Waller definitely tried to wipe out any records of your involvement during that year.”

“How many names are there?” Oliver asks.

“Thirty-six. Consider yourself lucky it's within double digits.”

Oliver pauses before questioning quietly, “Did you factor in the high-security clearance needed to have been in contact with me?”

Lyla looks down at the list and crosses quite a few of the names out. “Down to fourteen.” Pushing the photo ID book over to him, she swaps it for the active agents' files. “Try and see if any of their photos ring a bell.”

The archer barely has to search for five minutes before he announces, “Found him. James Stockton.”

Lyla swiftly grabs Stockton’s personal file and places it with the other trio of files they have spread it over the desk. She and Oliver peer over them before reaching the same conclusion, glancing up with other with steely looks.

“What’s Operation Blackbriar?” Oliver questions.

“If it’s about who I think it is, it explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, it explains why those men were so interested in Smoak Tech files and Felicity.”

She fetches the file, having to dig around in a cabinet of Priority Alpha mission reports before she finds it, and when she presents it to Oliver and opens it up to show him, the archer rears back in astonishment and horror, that quickly turns to fury.

“We have to get back to Felicity,” he says darkly. “Now.”

* * *

Inside the Loft, which is now functioning as Smoak Tech HQ, Felicity bustles around unlocking filing cabinets and cupboards to collect documents and papers. She’s changed out of her dress into a pair of black skinny jeans and a floral top.

“We don’t keep everything here,” she tells John, who is switching between standing by the door and windows to keep watch. “We keep the most important files hidden in the bunker. But these are all of the documents about the biostimulant chip and some of the security feature products I’ve been designing.”

“Best to get everything related to Smoak Tech somewhere safe. The bunker’s lower levels are unbreachable so it’s a good idea to store the files there.”

Finishing gathering the files in a large nondescript black duffel bag, Felicity shrugs on her black leather jacket, readying to lock up and leave. As she moves towards the door, however, there’s a quiet creak from upstairs that causes both her and John to freeze.

John’s gun is already aimed at where the sound came from when Felicity wheels around, hurrying to stand behind him at his urging. “Head to the door, slowly,” he whispers. “Considering they haven’t attacked yet, it’s more likely they have orders to tail us.”

Felicity nods silently, almost trembling in her fear. The pair of them exit as quietly as possible, locking up and then cautiously heading downstairs back outside to where they’ve parked the car. As they get to the last floor’s staircase, John shouts out in alarm when a canister is thrown in from the entranceway, releasing clouds of gas. He immediately sweeps Felicity behind him once again, trying to use his sleeve to cover his mouth and nose. Felicity does the same using her leather jacket as they run down the rest of the stairs.

Taking shots at the two men waiting for them at the bottom of the stairway, John takes them down without a beat of hesitance, leading Felicity out of the buffeting smoke into the next corridor, which opens up at the end onto the street. They sprint towards the exit doors, but John is practically tackled to the floor just a few meters before they make it.

“JOHN!” Felicity yells as her friend goes tumbling to the ground. Screeching in anger, she swings the duffel bag she’s carrying and the full weight of it slams into the three men trying to pin John down. They go flying. She kicks one of them in the head for good measure. Helping John to his feet, she’s about to shout that they should run when arms wrap around her waist and lift her off her feet.

She screams, kicking and throwing her arms about, and it must deter the guy holding her before he flings her to the ground. John tries to come to her aid but is quickly overwhelmed by another three men who have appeared from nowhere. They’re massively outmanned. Felicity sees John being wrenched into an arm hold that she just knows hurts a hell of a lot. He shouts out in agony and she quickly realizes that it’s his injured arm they’re yanking back, basically rendering John useless. She panics at the sight of her friend being placed in a headlock to force him unconscious.

Now is as good a time as any to send out an SOS. She whips out her phone and quick as the Flash, types out _ARUBA_ and sends it to Oliver.

She manages to throw a couple meaningful punches, creating quite a few bloody noses, before she’s struck over the head. Felicity collapses, black spots dancing in her vision, and the last thing she sees is a group of around seven men looming over her, one of them reaching down to pick her up, before the darkness descends and overtakes her.

* * *

The bunker elevator doors open and Oliver steps inside, flicking the lever to start up all the lights and systems. Lyla follows behind him, her arms full of files that the archer swiftly turns around to help her with. The two of them carry them over to the conference table, dumping them for later before hopping up onto Felicity’s platform.

“I’ll throw a text to Johnny letting him know we got here okay,” Lyla tells him. “Do you think they’re still at ST?”

“Just going to check their trackers now,” Oliver answers, settling into his wife’s usual chair and sliding towards the computers. “Felicity probably wanted to change out of her dress while there so I won’t be surprised if they take a little longer than they should.”

“Speaking of dresses, do you mind if I go change? These heels have been killing me all night.”

“Go ahead,” Oliver hums, beginning to search through the different systems to find the one he wants. “There’s a drawer next to John’s that has some of your spare –“ He cuts himself off, staring in shock and confusion. “The bioimplant tracking system has already been accessed.”

“What?” Lyla strides over to him, leaning over to examine the screens. “Could Felicity have accessed it remotely? You know, to check on us two?”

“Yeah, but this wasn’t her.” Oliver shakes his head in growing horror. “It says it was a system breach. He hacked it. Fuck. We should have known, he’s managed to do it before. He’s been tracing us all night. _Shit_.”

“Where are Felicity and Johnny now?” Lyla asks in alarm.

“Still at Smoak Tech HQ, it appears,” Oliver responds. He grabs for his phone. “We need to warn them. I can deactivate all our bioimplants from here but it will take twenty minutes or so. They’re vulnerable until –“ His face turns deathly pale as he glances down at his cell phone screen.

“Oliver?” Lyla asks worriedly. “What is it?”

“Felicity just texted me our SOS codeword,” he manages to get out, on the verge of hyperventilating. “She’s in trouble.”

“What!?” Lyla immediately pulls out her own phone, calling her husband. After ten seconds or so, her arm falls limply to her side. “Straight to voicemail,” she says. “Shit.”

“They’ve been taken.” Oliver leaps up and down to his weapons counter, scooping up his bow and clenching his hand around it, the adrenalin already surging. “Suit up. Help yourself to any of the weapons. We’ve got your husband and my wife to get back.”

* * *

Felicity awakens slowly, her head pounding and eyesight blurry as she blinks blearily around her. It’s dark, but her eyes adjust quickly. She appears to be in a cellar of some kind, zip-tied to a chair in the center of the room. Wiggling her hands, she finds she has enough room for her bloodflow not to be restricted, but there’s no possible way she can squirm out of them like Oliver taught her.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, when she realizes that since she’s alone, that means John is also here somewhere, trapped and by himself, possibly injured and weaponless. “Fuck.” Tipping her head back with a sigh, she whispers, “All I wanted was one normal date night. One.”

“I sincerely apologize for ruining your evening,” a civilized male voice says. Felicity flinches as she hears footsteps, signifying a man walking into the room. 

It’s still a little too dark for her to see him properly, but she recognizes that voice. _She recognizes his voice._

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she groans. “ _Dad?_ ”

The light is switched on, momentarily blinding Felicity before the man’s silhouette appears through the brightness, allowing her to focus on it. Her father, Noah Kuttler, stands in front of her, hands held behind his back and a very faint smile on his face.

“Hello, Felicity,” he says softly.

“No,” she shakes her head. “No. _Fuck_ no. You’re the one behind this? You sent those men to attack Lyla and try and kidnap us? _You’re_ trying to steal the investor contracts and encryption designs to destroy Smoak Tech? What the _fuck_.”

“I am very sorry for how all of this had to go down,” he says, and what pisses her off is that he looks and sounds sincere. “But yes, it is me who is after your company plans.”

Felicity stares at him in utter disgust. “I can’t believe this. No, actually – you know what’s worse? I totally can believe this. First, you completely _ruin_ my childhood by abandoning Mom and I. Second, you come back into my life, pretending you want to get to know me, when in fact you’re an evil mastermind cyber-terrorist trying to steal Palmer Tech information and _now_ – NOW you’re trying to _DESTROY_ my company? I thought after the whole saving the world from Damien Darhk’s sadistic nuclear missile attack you were _done_. You performed one good act and after that, you left. You were _through_ with me. I didn’t hear from you in YEARS! And now you’re back and you want to steal plans for Smoak Tech? Completely decimate my career? What kind of man are you!?”

“Felicity, I would _not_ be doing this if I wasn’t being forced to,” her father attempts to plead. “I am not doing this of my own will, you have to believe me.”

“Why should I?”

“I was kidnapped,” he tells her. “I went off the grid, I was living a reputable life of obeying the law and staying under the radar. I was keeping an eye on you and your mother but other than that, I was living my own life. And then this... _man_ just swoops in and abducts me. He says he knows I’m your father and that meant that I was the perfect candidate for his plans, because of my connection to you. He told me that unless I stole the Smoak Tech investor and encryption plans and ruined any chance of your company becoming successful, he wouldn’t just kill me, but he’d kill you and Donna too. And I – after everything I’ve put you and your mother through since you were a child, I just couldn’t let that happen, sweetheart.”

“ _Don’t_ call me sweetheart,” Felicity spits. “This man – did he give you his name?”

“He gave me an alias. He said you would already know him by now.”

“The Master.”

Kuttler nods in confirmation.

“Fuck,” Felicity grits through her teeth. “So your claim is that you were threatened into doing this, otherwise you, my mother and I would be killed.”

“Yes.”

Staring at him for a moment, Felicity eventually scoffs and turns away. “You’re not doing this to save my mom and me, you’re doing this to save yourself. I don’t need protecting – I can take care of myself, and I have my husband to be overly protective when he needs or I want him to be. Mom is completely safe in Vegas – she’s got a new high-end job with round the clock security and I’ve personally ensured she will be protected at all times. You probably know _all_ of that. No, what you’re doing here is trying to save your own hide. You don’t give a shit about my mom, me, or my family.”

“That’s not true, Felicity,” he says sadly.

“Yeah?” she raises an eyebrow. “If you truly care about me that much, and have been _keeping an eye on me_ , why didn’t you turn up at mine and Oliver’s wedding reception?”

Kuttler remains silent. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“My husband is going to be so pissed off,” she continues. “So if I were you, and by you, I mean preferring to keep all my limbs attached to my body, I would cut me loose right now, let my friend and I free with the Smoak Tech files, and run.”

Appearing stricken, Kuttler says, “Felicity, I can’t do that. The Master will kill me if I don’t give him your company’s plans, do you understand that? I need you to tell me where you’ve hidden the rest of them and how to get to them.”

Felicity narrows her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “Wait, so you’re telling me the Master doesn’t just want the investor and encryption plans... he wants all of them? What does he even _want_ with the plans?” she asks wildly. “Stealing the enhanced encryption ones would destroy Smoak Tech before it’s even properly started, but the others? The biochip invention, programming and security feature schematics? What could he possibly want with them?”

“Do you really think he would tell me that?” Kuttler says, exasperated. “I don’t know, Felicity. I have no idea what he’s planning. All I know is that I need to get all those files and plans to him, or I’m a dead man.”

“You’re a dead man either way,” she responds. “My husband will probably kill you if the Master doesn’t.”

“You wouldn’t let your husband kill your father,” Kuttler shakes his head.

“Don’t pretend as if you know me. You don’t. You have no idea what I would _let_ Oliver do or not.” There’s the distant sound of gunshots and the thwip of arrows, accompanied by shouts and grunts of pain. “Cut me loose right now and I won’t allow Oliver to shoot you straight away. And yes, he probably will attempt to do that, you kidnapped me and his best friend and he will be very, _very_ angry when he gets here. Not to mention he will have the Director of ARGUS beside him, who I promise you, you do not want to cross.”

Kuttler looks unsure, glancing between his daughter and the doorway. The sound of arrows being shot and men being taken down echoes much closer. Finally, after a minute of deliberation, Felicity’s father walks behind her and cuts her zip-ties with a pocket knife.

“I will surrender into ARGUS custody and cooperate when the Director gets here,” he informs her, sounding defeated.

“Thank you,” she replies.

Felicity is just standing, rubbing her sore wrists and stretching out her legs when Oliver appears in the doorway, dressed in his Green Arrow suit with his bow immediately aimed towards Kuttler. He’s shaking with fury, although adrenalin may be playing a part in that, and by the tension in his coiled muscles, he’s prepared to attack at any moment.

“Don’t shoot him,” Felicity says calmly, placing herself in front of her father. She ignores his sigh of relief, instead focusing on her husband’s enraged growl. “Oliver, he’s been acting under duress. The Master made him do all this, said he would kill him if he didn’t. He wants to hand himself into ARGUS and he said he’ll cooperate.”

“He _kidnapped_ you,” Green Arrow hisses.

“Yes, he did,” Felicity inclines her head. “But he also let me go.” When she sees Oliver’s grip tightening on his bow, the taut string rippling, she adds, “He might be able to provide us with information on McKnight. He’s too valuable for you to kill. Put down your bow, Oliver.”

Her husband snarls under his breath but obeys her, sticking his arrow back into his quiver and lowering his bow. “Lyla was untying John the last time I saw her. She should be here any second now. ARGUS backup has been called so they should be here in about ten minutes.”

“You and Lyla came in here alone?” Felicity asks, disapproving.

“Hell has no power like a spouse scorned,” Kuttler murmurs, twirling around to allow Green Arrow to zip-tie him, collapsing into the chair Felicity vacated when the archer shoves him down.

“I was angry,” Oliver tells Felicity tightly. “He hacked into the systems in the bunker to access our bioimplant tracking.”

Felicity looks over at Kuttler with a blank expression. “I take it back – you can shoot him.”

“Nobody is shooting anyone else tonight,” Lyla orders, striding in with John behind her.

Felicity rushes towards John, quickly checking him over for injuries. She hugs him gently from the side when she sees that he’s cradling his bad arm against his chest, but is otherwise unharmed. “Oh thank god. I was so worried.”

“Me too,” John embraces her, breathing a sigh of relief. When he pulls back, he appears stricken. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you earlier.”

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you’re alright.”

The pair of them turn their attention back to Lyla as she steps forwards Felicity’s father, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “Noah Kuttler, the Calculator.”

“You two don’t seem surprised that it was my dad who took us,” Felicity says, glancing between Oliver and Lyla.

“We were able to identify four agents involved in the attacks on ARGUS and on us at the restaurant,” Lyla tells her. “The only connection between the four of them was Operation Blackbriar – an ARGUS mission involving Kuttler here. Mr Kuttler, you are under arrest by the United States government under ARGUS jurisdiction. Anything you say can and may be used against you in the court of law. Cooperation may or may not help your case.”

“I would be willing to provide information, tech expertise and services in exchange for entrance into a witness protection program,” Kuttler says smoothly.

“You want a new identity?” Lyla asks. “Why?”

“I was acting under duress. I was threatened by the Master; he told me if I didn’t steal the Smoak Tech plans and files, he would kill me.”

Lyla shoots a glance over at Felicity. The blonde nods shortly at her.

“I will see if that can be arranged,” Lyla says. “Although if this does happen, you will be sent to a different country and be kept under constant ARGUS monitoring.”

“That is fine by me,” Kuttler nods. Looking over at his daughter, he suggests, “You should come with me, Felicity.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are always going to be targeted as long as you live here, sweetheart. Because of who your husband is, because of your role in helping the Green Arrow – and now because of Smoak Tech. The Master won’t rest until he has those plans and files of yours, and your company is burnt into the ground. He will do anything to destroy your husband, and that means he will go after you. If you come with me into hiding, I can protect you. You may hate me and I fully accept that, but I will always be your father, we’re family, and I will protect you.”

Felicity gazes at him seriously for a minute or two, mulling his words over in her mind. But she doesn’t even need to think about her answer. Her steps sure and firm, she walks over to Oliver, standing beside her husband in full Green Arrow gear with Lyla and John next to them. “I’m not going with you. I never would and I never will. You may be my father, and family by blood, but my family will _always_ be here in Star City. Lyla and John are my best friends and leaving them behind would like be cutting off an arm and leg. Oliver is my husband and I love him more than anything in the _universe_. I think it would physically kill me if I never had to leave him. And William - do you know about William?” She holds out her phone, showing him a selfie taken of her and Will, them both mid-laugh and cuddling on the couch. “William is my stepson and I _adore him_. I would die for him. He’s already lost one parent and I will not put him through losing another one. He deserves the best dad and best mom in existence, and while I will never be as amazing as his mom was, I will try my utmost hardest to be the most incredible stepmom ever. I won’t force Will to grow up with an absent parent. Not like you did to me, when you left.”

Kuttler looks as if he’s been slapped in the face. “Felicity...”

“If you’re placed into witness protection and given a new identity, I know it’s protocol that you’re not allowed contact with anybody from your past, but I want you to know that I never, _ever_ want to hear or see from you again when you leave the country. I am done chasing after you, I am done waiting for you to be a good father and I am done cleaning up your messes. I’ve found my family. It’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. Oliver and William complete me as a human being and I am a fundamentally better person because of them. That is my family - and you’re not a part of it.”

There is a frigid beat of silence, and then Kuttler nods his head curtly in respect of her wishes.

“You can take him away now, Lyla,” Felicity says quietly.

Lyla bodily moves Kuttler up and out of the cellar, snapping handcuffs onto his wrists. John falls in behind her. Felicity stands, staring solemnly at the lone chair in the center of the room. As she stands, Green Arrow slides closer and slips his gloved hand into hers, squeezing it gently in a show of support.

* * *

Felicity and Green Arrow sit on top of one of the black ARGUS cars the backup agents used to get to the abandoned building in which Kuttler was holding Felicity and John, brushing sides and elbows. Their hands remain firmly joined as they watch Noah Kuttler’s debrief be completed and him getting escorted away, Lyla trailing behind the agent leading the man with an expression of triumph in her face.

“They recovered all the Smoak Tech stuff,” the archer comments. “John’s going to get it all transported to the bunker.”

“Good,” Felicity sighs. “He probably needs to go and get checked out by Dr Schwartz. The guys that kidnapped us grabbed him by his injured arm. He was in a lot of pain.”

“Lyla’s going to get him seen to by an ARGUS doctor tonight,” Oliver reassures her. “She… did not look very happy about it.”

Felicity nods. “It's putting John under so much pressure. He couldn’t protect me earlier when we were being kidnapped… he was taken out within a minute. We should probably try and find some permanent solution for him soon.”

“Agreed. I want him back on the team, but he can’t be when he’s more likely to get somebody hurt than help protect them.” He glances away with a sigh. “I can’t imagine how guilty he’s feeling right now.” He pauses. “No, actually… I can. I would never be able to forgive myself if you got hurt because I wasn’t able to protect you.”

“You know I can protect myself,” she reminds him gently.

“I know. But it doesn’t hurt to have somebody watching your back.”

Felicity strokes her fingers over the back of his hand, agreeing, “No, it doesn’t.” Leaning back against the windscreen, she runs a hand over her face tiredly. “So my dad is in ARGUS custody and the Smoak Tech files are safe. Does that mean this entire fiasco is finally over?”

“I think so.”

“Great.” She twists and leans over, pushing down his hood and then pulling his mask down so it’s slung around Oliver’s neck. Their kiss is bruising and passionate, Felicity gripping onto her husband’s shoulder to anchor him closer to her. When they break apart to breathe, she whispers, “I really needed that.”

“Me too,” Oliver responds, his blue eyes shining. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s alright if you’re not.”

“I think I’m fairly okay for now,” she confirms.

They enjoy the comfortable silence that falls for a moment, watching Kuttler getting placed into proper handcuffs and then shoved into a car in the distance. 

Oliver breaks it by asking somewhat shyly, “What you said tonight... about our family... you meant it?”

“What? Yeah, of course I did,” Felicity says, frowning at him. “I was telling the truth. You and William are most definitely the best things to ever happen to me. Although calling you things sounds a bit like an insult...”

“And the bit you said... about leaving me.”

“About it physically killing me? All true too.”

Nodding, Oliver admits quietly, as if ashamed by what he’s saying, “Ever since we got married, I’ve been scared about bringing up anything to do with moving our relationship or family forwards in conversation. You said you didn’t want to marry me multiple times before we did, rather suddenly and... I guess I’ve been afraid of freaking you out by talking more about our futures together. That’s why I didn’t tell you about the house hunting. I wanted to have the chance to look at some potential future homes for us so we’d be prepared if we ever did get around to moving... and I also didn’t want to bother you about it since you’ve been so busy with Smoak Tech. It sort of seemed to me like it would be low on your priority list, especially since I thought you would immediately tell me no if I suggested it. I’m sorry I left you out of the decision and I’m sorry I left you in the dark. I respect that you don’t want to move house right now and I promise I won’t go house hunting again without you.”

Tears in her eyes, Felicity presses a chaste kiss to his lips in appreciation, whispering, “Thank you. I’m sorry too, for snapping when I found out. Truth be told, finding out you’ve been looking at family houses to move into frightened me a little. I agree that we’ll need to move into a bigger house if we ever want to expand our family, but... I’m content with us remaining a trio right now. I don’t want to have a baby anytime soon, Oliver. I know I probably sound selfish, but I just really want to focus on Smoak Tech and my career, and our family of three.”

“That’s not selfish at all,” he reassures her.

“I want to move forward with our relationship and our family,” she tells him. “I really like that idea. Just... maybe not too fast, okay?”

“Okay,” Oliver smiles.

Lyla and John wave at them from where they’re about to climb into a car, beckoning the pair over. Oliver quickly slides off the top of the car and helps Felicity down, linking their fingers as they walk over.

“Want a ride home?” John asks. “I’m driving.”

“To City Hall, actually,” Felicity says. Turning to Oliver, she tells him, “I told William we’d come pick him up as soon as the situation was handled and that we could go out for ice cream.”

“It’s three in the morning,” Oliver replies incredulously.

“Ice cream for breakfast, then?”

“I have to be at City Hall for work at eight.”

“You could call in and say it’s a family emergency,” Felicity pouts.

“Ice cream is _not_ a family emergency.”

“It is for our family,” the blonde crosses her arms over her chest. “Plus, I promised William. And you wouldn’t want me to break a promise to our son, would you?”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Felicity punches the air adorably in triumph, making the other three chuckle in amusement. “We’ll need to do it super early if that’s okay? I have a meeting tomorrow about finalizing the presentation for Palmer Tech we’re making of that stock exchange for licensing rights thing I mentioned earlier.”

“You going to mention the near downfall of Smoak Tech tonight to them?” John laughs.

“God no, are you kidding? Curtis might actually have a heart attack. We’re in the last stages before Smoak Tech officially becomes a working, selling company, and tonight jeopardized all of that, I’m not gonna terrify him like that. Although, I will need to come up with an explanation for why all of our files and plans and not just the secure ones are suddenly down in the bunker instead of at HQ…”

“Tell him you got drunk during our double date,” Lyla laughs.

“Haha, very funny,” Felicity sticks her tongue out at her before climbing into the car’s back seat. “Come on, let’s get to City Hall and reunite with our kids.”

“Hell yeah, I’m going to need extra cuddles from JJ after tonight,” John says, getting into the driving seat, while his wife gets into the passenger. “Maybe we should head to the bunker first though, get Oliver out of that suit so that he’s not instantly arrested the moment we get there. Oliver, you getting in?”

The archer startles from where he’s been watching the car containing Noah Kuttler for the last minute or so. He desperately wants to get Noah into interrogation and find out all that he knows about the Master. His bow dangles from his hand and he itches to pick an arrow out of his quiver, feeling so out of control after the night’s events. He wants – no, _needs_ to know more about what the McKnight is planning. Even a little piece of intel might help, but Oliver doubts Kuttler will have anything substantial that they’ll be able to make ground with.

He turns back upon hearing Felicity calling his name softly, and when he sees his wife’s expectant face and teasing smile, Oliver grins in return and slides in beside her.

The mission can wait another day. Tonight he wants to spend with his family.

* * *

**END**


	12. Authors Note - Episode 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'd planned a Thea-leaves-with-Roy story that differs from canon, but had a last minute departure by one of the members of the Olicity Writer's Room. In lieu of episode 12 of our season, please rewatch episode 15 and 16 of season 6, "Doppelgänger" and "The Thanatos Guild" or read the summaries linked below. Thank you!

Links to summaries of both episodes can be found below:

["Doppelgänger"](https://tvline.com/2018/03/08/arrow-recap-season-6-episode-15-roy-harper-returns/) \- Roy returns.  
["The Thanatos Guild"](https://hiddenremote.com/2018/03/30/arrow-season-6-episode-16-recap/) \- Roy and Thea leave Star City with Nyssa in search of other Lazarus pits.


	13. Fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a shocking turn of events, Earth 2 Adrian Chase is freed from ARGUS lock-up by another astonishing visitor from the multiverse, and the pair kidnap Oliver with the intent of torturing and breaking him psychologically. Felicity struggles emotionally with her husband’s ordeal, as she reforms Team Arrow to help save him before it’s too late.
> 
> (Written by AlexiaBlackbriar13 and felicityollies)
> 
> Please read the Authors Note for Chapter 12 before!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by felicityollies and AlexiaBlackbriar13.
> 
> HEAVY ANGST WARNING.
> 
> Also trigger warnings for torture, violence, suicidal ideation.
> 
> Please read the Authors Note for Chapter 12 before!

One. Two. Three. Four.

_FLICKER._

Lying flat on his back in the middle of his bare, metallic glass cell, deep below ARGUS HQ, Adrian Chase from Earth 2 smirks up at the ceiling, tapping one finger against the bulletproof glass wall to count the four seconds that constantly precede a slight flicker in the buzzing daylight lamps above him.

It’s silent. Completely quiet. The footsteps of the agents walking around the cell, the men pacing as they guard their prisoner, are muffled by the floor. Chase’s tapping against the glass is the only sound that can possibly be heard in his nuclear bunker style prison.

The lights flicker again, but this time, it only takes two seconds for them to flicker. Cocking his head sideways in curiosity, Chase frowns as once again, it only takes two seconds for the lights to flicker.

The next time it happens, the lights shut off completely, casting the prisoner and all the agents around him into pitch black darkness.

ARGUS agents mutter in panic around the cell. A couple of torches are pulled out, but the light from them is so weak that it barely brightens anything. Somebody mutters something about going into lockdown. One agent hurries off, saying they need to check the fuse box.

The very somber, chilling first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata begins to play through the speakers. It’s deafeningly loud so that the ARGUS agents’ shouts and cries of confusion and anger can’t be heard.

Chase slowly stands, his smirk growing into a sinister grin. He knew that she would come for him eventually. To all of the agents surrounding him’s horror, the psychopath throws his head back in a maniacal laugh, and he doesn’t stop.

* * *

The only sound echoing off the hard concrete floor of the ARGUS underground prison is slow footsteps. Black boots delicately step over collapsed, bloodied bodies: ARGUS agents who have been shot down and lie dead. The Moonlight Sonata continues to play as they walk, pushing lifeless limbs out of their path. Disinterested and disrespectful of slain agents around them. Although why would they care? They’re the one who murdered all of them. The owner of the boots approaches the dark room up ahead, not bothered by the pitch black. In fact, the darkness seems to only increase their confidence.

“I knew you’d come,” Chase says, staring out of his cell with wild, overjoyed eyes. It’s almost frightening how suddenly excited he is. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me here.”

Voice distorted and muffled by a mask, the person replies, “Leave you here? No chance.”

A blaring warning alarm starts up, startling the both of them. Red emergency lights flash on, blinding Chase as he covers his eyes with a huff. CCTV has undoubtedly alerted the rest of the ARGUS base as to what’s going on. Somebody has broken in to free one of their highest security prisoners.

“Let’s get out of here,” the person says, clicking the magazine of their gun.

* * *

Chase and his rescuer don’t glance back as they escape the ARGUS facility in a stolen black sedan. Raging fire reflects off the rearview mirror, revealing the carnage they have left behind. Their escape was a messy one, but neither of them cares - killing the agents who guarded Chase in that cell was half the fun of it.

After ten minutes or so of silent driving, Chase’s rescuer at the wheel, they bring the car to a standstill near the side of an empty, barely lit street. Clambering out of the vehicle they have to now abandon, in case they were being followed, Chase lunges around the front of the car and grabs his rescuer by the wrist.

Swinging them around so he has them pinned to the closed door, he presses a knee between their legs and growls seductively, “God, you’re so sexy when you’re shooting people to save me. Did he get in contact with you? Told you the plan?”

“McKnight is insane, I hope you’re aware of that,” the person whispers back, dancing gloved fingers delicately down Chase’s back, making him shudder. “But not so insane that he thinks he can do this without you -”

“Without _us_ ,” Chase cuts in, grinning. “You know Queen is going to _snap_ when he sees you.”

“I would hope so.”

The psychopath’s rescuer strips their mask off in one swift movement, revealing their face. Her cold blue eyes meet Chase’s gaze as she pulls her gloves off and runs her fingers through her blonde hair, airing it out.

Felicity Smoak stares back at him, her lips ticking up into a menacing smirk. “I would hate for all of this to be for nothing.”

* * *

“And you’re sure you picked up your Chemistry assignment?”

“Yes, Dad!”

“Because you left it on the breakfast counter last night, I saw it, and I didn’t see you pick it up this morning at breakfast -”

“Dad!” William groans, drawing out the word as he rolls his eyes. He sits in the backseat of the Smoak Queen family’s Audi, rifling through his school Flash backpack. He has a cereal bar in hand and is trying to wolf it down while checking he has everything he needs. “I promise you, I’ve got it! Look at the road, please!”

The archer relaxes, returning his gaze to the asphalt in front of him. One of his favorite things in the world is their new routine of driving William to school every morning as a family. Felicity is curled up in the passenger seat, frowning down at her cell phone as she texts who he suspects is Curtis, but she rests one of her hands on top of his over the gear stick. He smiles at her warmly, chuckling under his breath when her brow furrows a little more; she’s adorable. Glancing up on hearing his snicker, Felicity grins brightly and leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. God, Oliver wishes it were on the lips, but he was already distracted this morning by his wife’s wonderful kisses while cooking omelets - he almost burnt them. Not so great for his reputation as a star chef.

“It’s not in for today, anyway,” William continues, stuffing his belongings back into his bag. “It’s in for Monday, and since it’s Friday I have the whole weekend to finish it. I did tell you that.”

“Better for you to hand homework in earlier than hand it in late,” Oliver shrugs.

Felicity snorts. “Says the man who probably never handed a piece of homework in on time in his entire life.”

“I was a model student up until the age of fourteen, thank you very much.”

“Sure, Mr ‘I got an E in Physics’,” William teases.

Oliver shoots him a half-hearted glare, rolling his eyes. “Don’t believe everything Felicity tells you, buddy. It was a C, not an E.”

He drives the car up to the sidewalk next to William’s school, the main building in sight with a crowd of students entering it.

The archer places the car in park, making a shoo-ing motion with one hand. “Go on, get out of here,” he says fondly. “Go and learn something. Remember you’re taking the bus home and then Zoe’s coming over later tonight so Raisa can look after you both. Felicity and I will be home after midnight so we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Hopping out, William swings his backpack onto his shoulders. “Since it’s Saturday, can we please go to that cafe and get those amazing cinnamon bacon pancakes for breakfast?”

“Felicity might be working tomorrow.” Oliver turns around to face his wife. “Felici -” he cuts himself off in surprise. Felicity is fast asleep in her seat, head lolling back and gentle snores escaping her mouth. Her hand is slack around her cell phone, which is still on, showing that she fell asleep within the last minute or so. “Uh…” He looks back at William. “Assume that it’s a yes. She can probably take a couple hours off for pancakes.”

“Cool. Bye, Dad.” William bends down to peer in, confused at the sight of Felicity asleep. “Is… she okay?”

“Just tired from all the work she’s been putting into Smoak Tech,” Oliver says, hoping that it’s somewhere close to the truth. Felicity has been exhausted lately due to simultaneously pulling late hours for her company and running comms as Overwatch on Team Arrow patrols. “Don’t worry about her, kid. Have a good day at school.”

He waits until William has walked away before pulling the car back out onto the street. He decides to let Felicity sleep for the rest of the journey to Smoak Tech, as he’s dropping her off at work. She’s obviously very tired if she’s falling asleep basically mid-conversation. As he drives on, however, Oliver begins to grow worried when Felicity starts making small, scared and pained sounds during her slumber. Her muscles tense up and she contorts in her seat, her expression contorting into one of fear. A nightmare. She’s having a nightmare. She’s suffered from them before, and worse ones than this, but it still agonizes the archer to know that she’s suffering during the time she’s meant to be resting.

Once the car is at a standstill at a traffic light, he reaches over hesitantly and very gently prods her in the arm. “Felicity.” When she doesn’t respond, he switches from prodding to carefully shaking. “Felicity, wake up. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re just dreaming. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe, and I’m here. Wake up.”

His wife jolts awake with a harsh gasp, clutching at her seatbelt tightly. Her panicked gaze flies to Oliver and he tries to plaster on a reassuring expression to replace his concerned one. After a few seconds of frigid silence, Felicity relaxes, rubbing both her hands over her face as she lets out a groan. “God, sorry… I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her gently. The traffic light turns green, so he begins driving again, although splits his attention between the street and his wife. “You looked as if you were having a nightmare.”

She looks out of the window. “Yeah.”

Oliver doesn’t want to push, especially as Felicity doesn’t sound like she wants to discuss it. But he has to ask - “Do you want to talk about it? You know you can tell me anything. I have nightmares too, you know that. Please know I’m here to support you -”

“Oliver,” Felicity shakes her head. “Honestly, it’s fine. It’s just stress-induced. Being CEO of a relatively new company that you also own is difficult and I haven’t been sleeping well lately. They’re just bad dreams and I can cope with them.” She changes the subject, steering the conversation away from her so obviously that Oliver knows that bringing up her nightmares again will cause her to get annoyed. “What are you planning on doing today?”

He shrugs. “Was just going to go to the bunker and train. I’ve been feeling a bit anxious and need to work it out.”

“Anxious why?” Felicity frowns at him. She hesitates before asking tentatively, “Is it the Master?”

He sighs. “Partly, yeah. I’m always on edge because of all that. But it’s just one of those weeks, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says quietly. “Well, you should be there by yourself today.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Seeing the look on his wife’s face, he sighs. “Let me guess, John and the others have been going down despite being fired?”

“You can’t exactly stop them, Oliver,” she shrugs.

“I tried to by changing the lock codes and combinations, but _somebody_ ‘accidentally’ sent them onto the old team group chat.”

“Hey, that actually was an accident,” Felicity protests, raising a finger in her defense. “And they’re just using it as work-out space. They can’t exactly train in a regular gym without raising suspicion about how good at fighting they are.”

“They shouldn’t be fighting at all,” Oliver says under his breath unhappily.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be alone in the bunker today. I know John is out with Lyla and JJ, and the others usually text me to check you’re there before going down. Although John and Dinah did say something about wanting to talk to you privately the other day…”

“What is there to talk about?”

“You fired them, so maybe severance pay?” Felicity retorts, her smile teasing.

They arrive at the street where Smoak Tech HQ is located and Oliver indicates so he can quickly drop Felicity off. Leaning in, he dips her chin up gently with one hand so he can kiss her. His eyes flutter shut at the same time as Felicity’s and he flicks his tongue over her lips with a pleased, growly purr at the back of his throat when he feels his wife wrap her fingers around the collar of his shirt, tugging at it in a show of domination. The kiss is over much too quickly for both of their likings, and Felicity’s gaze is heated when they break away from each other.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

“Love you too.”

“Have a productive day at work.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say ‘have a good day at work’ because that would be very hard at the moment. Productivity is exactly what we need. Thank you.”

Climbing out, Felicity ducks back in for one last, sweet kiss before closing the door behind her. She remains standing on the sidewalk, waving as Oliver drives off. He smiles to himself as he watches Felicity blow him a kiss in the rearview mirror.

* * *

His chest heaves up and down with each breath. Sweat drips down his bare chest. He’s overheated, pushing himself too hard, but he refuses to stop.

Oliver swings his fist into the practice dummy. His knuckles hit the rubber for the thousandth time. It’s all he can do to keep his mind off of everything going on. He didn’t lie to Felicity when he told her he was having _one of those_ weeks. His anxiety is high and he can only partially blame the Master. Sometimes his anxiety just acts up without any rhyme or reason, but he knows it’s more than that.

He wipes sweat from his brow and slams his fists into the dummy again. And again. He pushes himself until he can feel his skin crack against the rubber. Salty sweat burns the new injury, but he makes no move to clean himself up. A little pain is nothing new.

The ding of the elevator makes him sigh. This was supposed to be his alone time.

He rests his forehead against the dummy, refusing to look up to see who is invading his space.

“Oliver?” Felicity’s voice hits him.

He whips around. “What are you doing here?” he asks breathlessly.

His eyes move down her. She is wearing something different than what he left her in. He frowns, though he supposes it’s not unusual for her to change clothes in the middle of the day. She might have spilled something on her dress at work. The red number she’s in is tight and slightly revealing. It has long sleeves, but doesn’t cover her shoulders and swoops down to reveal plenty of cleavage. It’s quite short too. Not something he’s ever seen her wear to work. Or seen her wear at all. Maybe it’s new. He shakes his head. The stress of the last couple of months is getting to him.

“I came to check on you,” she says sweetly.

She walks towards him, her heels clicking against the floor.

He smiles and pushes himself away from the dummy, grabbing a towel from a nearby counter to mop some of the sweat off his bare chest, not bothering to pull on a shirt. She looks at him with a determined gaze. He bites his lip and sits down in a nearby chair. He’s starting to think she wants more than to check up on him and that is fine with him.

“I missed you,” she whispers, sliding into his lap. She straddles his lap, pressing her body against his.

“I saw you a couple hours ago,” he mumbles, “but I missed you too.”

His hand slides down her side. He knows she should be at work. Smoak Tech is important and needs a lot more work to get going, but he can’t help feeling better with his wife in his lap. It’s selfish, of course, but nothing is better than being with Felicity.

She runs her hand up his sweaty chest to his neck. Felicity leans in near his ear, kissing just below the shell. He feels a sudden prick at the back of his neck, sharp and painful.

“This was too easy,” she whispers.

“What?” He chokes.

His neck burns. The feeling spreads throughout quickly.

“Felicity,” he slurs.

He grabs at her back, but his movements slow and his body begins to go slack. His eyes droop and feel heavy. The last thing he remembers is Felicity leaning back, a syringe in her hand, and a wide but devious smile on her face. Then the world goes black.

* * *

Oliver stirs awake gradually, his head spinning and eyesight hazy as he peers around at his surroundings, which are pitch black. Groggily, he yanks at his hands, which have been bound above him; his toes barely touch the floor as he hangs from what he presumes to be the ceiling, causing an unpleasant stretch along his spine, and his feet to ache. The last dredges of… whatever he was knocked out with still remain in his system, making him dizzy and sick. He barely notices that he’s still shirtless, as he had been in the bunker while working out, until a harsh cold breeze washes over him and he shivers.

It’s too dark for his eyes to adjust so he can’t figure out where exactly he is, but he can hear the distant noises of vehicles. There’s a horrible burning stench that fills his nose and Oliver coughs, the taste of old ash coating the back of his throat as he continues to breathe what must be stale air.

He frowns, starting to remember what happened. Felicity came to visit him in the bunker, sat on his lap… then stabbed him with a needle filled with a drug? He shakes his head, bewildered and trying to make sense of it. Was she being coerced? Had somebody threatened her to - what, knock him out so they could kidnap him? Felicity wasn’t the type of person to give in to that sort of demand. He knows her better than he knows himself.

“Felicity?” he calls out, voice weak and confused.

There’s no response.

Instead, a loud, ear-splitting screech as what sounds like an audio recording flares to life, the speaker close enough to Oliver that he startles violently, swinging from his bonds with a pained groan.

_Please stop! PLEASE! I - I don’t know what you want! Please s-stop hurting me! Just let me go! L-LET ME GO, PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THEY’RE HURTING ME, I CAN’T -_

Chills rush over Oliver’s body as he recognizes the voice. “William?!” he shouts frantically.

Whoever kidnapped him - they have his son!?

He hears William release an agonized, heartbreaking scream - one Oliver knows is a result of torture. _His son is being tortured._ The archer struggles desperately in an attempt to free himself as the scream dies off and transforms into more pleading for help and for whoever is hurting him to stop.

 _I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM MY DAD!_ William cries. _PLEASE, I DON’T KNOW! Just let me go, please just let me go, I don’t know anything!_

“Fuck,” Oliver snarls, scratching at his wrists to try and find a way out of what must be manacles clamped around them.

The audio recording cuts off in the middle of another horrifying scream. Before Oliver can even begin to understand what’s going on, light floods the space, blinding him. The brightness is being emitted from powerful spotlights that have been set up so they shine directly onto him, making it extremely difficult for the archer to see.

Within seconds, Oliver recognizes where he is. The building has been destroyed by fire, furniture scattered around him scorched and broken by searing flames, but the place is still recognizable - this used to be an Italian restaurant, specifically the one where he and Felicity had their failed first date.

The light doesn’t just allow him to see his surroundings. Once the black spots from his vision have faded, the archer focuses on his wife, who is standing several feet front of him with a scared expression, hair mussed and short red dress ruffled and torn as if she was attacked, with handcuffs around her wrists.

“Felicity,” he breathes. “Jesus - are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” she whispers. “They contacted me at Smoak Tech, they said they had William and they were going to hurt him if I didn’t help them get to you.” His heart plummets in his chest. So it was real, the recording they played… they had his son and they were torturing him. “They threatened to kill him if I reached out for help - I’m so, so sorry, I couldn’t -”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts her, his voice reassuring despite how shaky it is. “It’s - it’s okay, hun. It’s fine, we’re going to get out of this and we’re going to rescue our son. I need you to… to tell me everything you remember when they contacted you. You must have traced the call, right? They must have… given you a number to call or an address to take me to once you’d drugged me unconscious. I don’t know, _something!_ You must have _something,_ Felicity!”

Oliver freezes when a cruel smirk spreads across his wife’s face and she begins laughing at him. Coldness rushes through him when Felicity twists her wrists and frees herself from the handcuffs, dropping them to the floor with a clatter, and she starts straightening her dress and smoothing her hair back, still chuckling at him.

“That was too funny,” she says. “God, you’re so utterly pathetic, Oliver.”

His mouth is dry, heart thundering in his chest. His lungs feel heavy as he chokes out, “I - I don’t understand…”

“Your son is safe,” Felicity rolls her eyes. “It was fake, computer-generated from voice prints I was able to pull from phone records. And you immediately believed the story about being forced to drug you because of William being threatened - it’s almost disappointing how stupid you are.”

Oliver shakes his head slowly. “This… isn’t real. I’m hallucinating or - or having a nightmare.”

He tries to look away and squeeze his eyes shut, but Felicity strides towards up, grabbing his chin roughly and forcing him to look at her. The sadistic, amused look on her face makes Oliver want to vomit. He’s never seen Felicity with an expression like that. This can’t be real.

“Does this feel real to you, pet?” There’s no possible way for Oliver to anticipate the harsh slap Felicity hits him with. His cheek stings and head reels as he’s shoved backward by the strength of it, scrambling to get back onto his toes again so the severe pressure on his arms eases. “Aw, honey, I think I cut your pretty face.” He stifles his whimper when Felicity runs her hand through his hair, as it would be a comforting motion if she didn’t scrape his scalp so harshly with her sharp fingernails. Her fingers trail down his head and she brushes her knuckles against the sore spot, and her fingers come away speckled with blood. “Sad, considering I only married you for your looks and your money.”

He bit his tongue when she slapped him, so he spits out a half-mouthful of blood onto the floor. “If that were true,” he pants, finally finding his footing. “You could have divorced me months ago after we merged our bank accounts and I connected up my trust fund.” He still doesn’t believe this is happening. It’s most likely some awful nightmare or hallucination as he suspected before - maybe if he continues to play along with it, Felicity might stop hurting him? He doesn’t like her hurting him. He hates it. He refuses to think of this or any of her words as true.

“Hmm, I could have,” she tilts her head sideways. “I would have arranged to have you killed, actually. Pay the assassin extra to make it look like some terrible, terrible accident. The kid would have been involved too. It was irritating to discover that you arranged your accounts so that your money would transfer to William upon your death, and then everything of his and yours to me if both of you died. But I can’t kill you just yet... there’s somebody who would like to say hello, first.” She glances behind her. “Adrian, dear, your early birthday present has arrived.”

Oliver swallows, beginning to tremble as Adrian Chase slides into the room, stalking straight up to Felicity and wrapping his arms around her waist. How the Earth-2 doppelganger escaped ARGUS lock-up, Oliver has no clue. The psychopath’s eyes are hungry and vengeful as he runs them up and down the half-naked archer, and Oliver tries not to show how fearful he is. “And he is so much better than a slice of cake. Thank you, sweetie.”

“‘Sweetie’?” Oliver echoes, his voice a croak, before he can stop himself.

“Oh, yes,” Adrian’s lips tick up into a delighted grin. “Your wife and I have been _fucking_ , Oliver. She helped me get out of that ARGUS prison cell a couple days ago and we’ve been making sweet, delicious love ever since. How does it feel to know your wife is now your archenemy’s lover?”

“I never said you were my archenemy,” Oliver says.

He earns a punch across the throat for that, and the archer wheezes for a couple of minutes, his ears ringing as he hears both Adrian and Felicity laugh at his weakness. But as he swings back and forth in his chains, he fixes his sight onto Felicity, examining her carefully. Because he’s got a theory now, and he needs to know whether or not it’s true. He tries to pick out some minute differences, little things like her piercings, her haircut, her eyebrows.

“I’m in love with the man who tortured you for a week last year, Oliver,” Felicity says, trailing her fingers across Adrian’s chest. “That must hurt.”

He makes the decision there and then. Oliver won’t put up with this anymore.

“You’re not my Felicity,” he determines.

The Felicity imposter stares at him in annoyance. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not _my Felicity_ ,” Oliver repeats. Then, he takes a gamble and asks, “What Earth are you from?”

There’s a beat of silence and then Felicity rolls her eyes, clapping sarcastically. “Oh well done, you figured it out,” she sneers, sounding exasperated. Oliver just slumps in relief. It’s not his Felicity. That’s what he’s got to hang onto. “Maybe you’re not as idiotic as I thought. I’m from Earth 2, the same as my husband here.”

Oliver’s throat closes up. Whether that’s due to swelling from the punch or due to the sorrow and distress making him want to burst into tears, he can’t really tell. “You and he are…”

“Married, yes,” Adrian says. “Earth 2 really _is_ more exciting than here, isn’t it?”

Then the two of them kiss, violent and messy and passionate, and Oliver wants to tear his eyes away, but he just _can’t_. He’s watching a woman, who is essentially a clone of his wife, kiss a man who is the doppelganger of one of his worst enemies, and he _feels like he’s dying inside._

Adrian breaks off the kiss and wheels around, walking off with Not-Felicity on his arm. “We were hoping to get another hour or two of fun out of the whole you-thinking-my-Felicity-is-yours illusion. Way to ruin the day for us, Oliver. You’ll pay for that.”

The lights are switched off, casting Oliver back into darkness. He shakes his head, tears in his eyes as he sees the silhouettes of the two villains standing in the doorway. “Why are you doing this?” he asks. “Did the Master put you up to this?”

“All will be revealed in due time,” Felicity purrs. “But for now… sleep tight, little pet. You’ll want to get some rest for what we have planned for you.”

The door slams shut behind them.

Minutes of silence pass, and for a moment, Oliver believes that they’re genuinely going to let him try and sleep.

But then the audio starts up again.

_I don’t know what you want, please, leave me alone, I don’t know anything! Please stop hurting me, I’ll do anything, please! I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die!_

Oliver hangs his head, releasing a sob as he hears his son beg and plead for his life. It might be fake. But it sounds real.

_I don’t wanna die! Please, I don’t wanna die! I DON’T WANNA DIE!_

* * *

John and Dinah arrive at the bunker together in the early evening, planning to confront Oliver about being fired - again. The rest of the team will be coming by later, as Rene needs to drop Zoe off at the Queen apartment so she can be watched over by Raisa and Curtis is out for dinner with his boyfriend. Since Felicity is working late at Smoak Tech and needs to check in at home with William, she won’t be able to mediate the conversation between them. They’re surprised to find the place empty, as Felicity texted them both earlier to tell them that Oliver was there working out alone all day and they could pop in to talk to him.

“I’m just gonna rinse off in the shower,” Dinah calls. After a full day of police force work, she’s sweaty already, and since she might be in the bunker having a screaming match with the archer for the next hour or so instead of being comfortable at home, she might as well use the facilities here. “Where’d you think Oliver is?”

Hopping up onto the monitor platform, John draws a chair up and settles himself in it, checking the police scanning algorithm. Oliver has obviously been checking it all day. He misses the afternoons he and his brother would spend together, waiting for something on the scanner they could act on. “Probably went out to grab something to eat. There’s not much in the fridge. Well, not much that Oliver would find healthy enough to eat.”

Dinah leans into the kitchen and checks the fridge, finding Chinese take-out containers, a bowl of week-old cheesy pasta, a six-pack of beer and some of Felicity’s favorite fizzy energy drinks. Yeah, nothing that Oliver would want for dinner. He probably popped out to buy a salad or something. “Call him, will you?” she asks, shrugging off her jacket. “He can pick up some Big Belly Burger for us all on his way back. I’m starving.”

“He’s not going to be happy we’re here at all,” John reminds her. “He wasn’t warned we were coming. Remember, Felicity said he might bolt or change the lock combinations again if he knew we were planning to come today to talk to him.”

“He fired us, the least he can do is feed us.”

As Dinah vanishes inside the shower-room, John calls Oliver’s cell phone. Only seconds later, ringing sounds from the other side of the bunker, near the salmon ladder and practice dummy. Frowning, John stands and follows the ringing, picking up his friend’s phone from the counter it’s been left on. It’s not like Oliver to leave his cell phone behind when heading out, even just for an hour or two.

As he checks it, finding, very strangely, a couple of missed calls from Felicity, John’s heart seizes in his chest when he catches sight of a few dried drops of blood on the metal table and on the back of the chair next to it as well. He forces himself to stay calm for a moment - Oliver might have just nicked himself while working out. But then as he steps back to survey the space, his gaze is drawn to a worrying and scary sight underneath the table… a syringe, emptied and abandoned.

“Dinah!” he shouts.

She pokes her head out from the shower room. “I was just about to get in,” she scowls. But her irritation fades when she sees the strangled expression on John’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to check the cameras,” he says, pointing at them, where they’re mounted around the walls. Never has he been gladder that Felicity insisted on setting them up. The blood paired with the syringe does not paint a promising picture. “Can you check the outside ones? Campaign office, garage, and alleyway?”

Dinah nods and the two of them retreat to the platform, John taking up one side of the monitor set-up while Dinah takes up the other. John’s stomach twists and an anxious sensation sweeps over him as he finds the footage that he needs. The full-color video shows Felicity arriving in the bunker while Oliver pounds at a training dummy, dressed in a very short red dress that John doesn’t reckon he ever would have expected her to wear. She swings herself onto a shirtless Oliver’s lap, and they speak for a few seconds - and then John’s jaw drops in shock as she yanks out and stabs Oliver in the neck with the syringe, the one he found dropped under the table.

“Oh my god,” he hears Dinah murmur beside him, also watching the footage.

He pushes back his nausea and continues to examine the footage. But John only feels even sicker as Felicity clambers off an unconscious Oliver carefully, only to shove him out of the chair and onto the floor. She pulls out a tablet, taps on it for a minute, and then the elevator doors open - to reveal Adrian Chase.

“This can’t be real,” he shakes his head.

“That’s not actually Chase, is it?” Dinah asks, alarmed.

“The Adrian Chase of this Earth is dead. The only Chase left alive is the Earth 2 one, currently in ARGUS lock-up.” John swallows. “Unless he’s not anymore.” He narrows his eyes, observing the Felicity in the footage’s body language and movement, before coming to a realization. “I don’t think that’s the Felicity of this Earth either. It has to be an alternate one.”

“You confirm that while I call Lyla about the Earth 2 Chase situation.” Dinah steps away, beginning to dial on her own cell phone.

John watches the video in horror and disgust as Chase pulls Felicity in for a kiss and then bends over to haul Oliver onto his shoulder. The three of them disappear out of the garage exit. Footage from the garage and the alleyway confirm this is how they got out, showing Chase and Felicity transferring the knocked out archer into a nondescript black car and then driving off.

No, there’s absolutely no way that the Felicity he knows and loves, the Felicity who giggles under her breath everytime somebody refers to her as Oliver’s wife, the Felicity who gets excited when her husband lets her buy Poptarts to try the new flavors, would do this.

“Felicity,” he says into the phone, as soon as she picks up, “I need you to tell me precisely what you’ve been doing, all day.”

“ _Good evening to you too, John_ ,” she says dryly. “ _Are you calling for reinforcements against my husband? I can’t imagine he was pleased you and Dinah interrupted his work-out._ ”

“This is important,” he continues. “I need your complete schedule for today.”

“ _Is something going on?_ ” she asks, worriedly. “ _Did something happen? Is Oliver okay? Why do you need to know what I’ve been doing?_ ”

“Because I need you to prove where you weren’t today.”

“ _Okay, well, Oliver dropped me off at Smoak Tech HQ this morning and I haven’t left all day. I’ve been busy writing an update for the new encryption software, didn’t even stop for lunch. You can check my data logs if you need proof, although you could just ask Curtis, he’s been here with me until around four this afternoon. Now can you tell me what’s going on? Does my husband have anything to do with this? Is he in trouble?_ ”

John’s silently relieved that he now knows for sure that it wasn’t his and Oliver’s Felicity, the _real_ Felicity, who drugged and kidnapped the Green Arrow. Not that he ever believed that Felicity would do something like that in the first place - at least, not this Earth’s Felicity. He turns back to the monitor screen, setting his jaw as he stares solemnly at where the video has been paused - a shot of both Not-Felicity and Chase smirking smugly into the camera lens as they finish shoving Oliver into their car, knowing they were being caught on tape but not caring.

“I think your husband has been kidnapped,” he tells her, “By Earth 2 Adrian Chase… and an Alternate Earth evil Felicity Smoak. You need to get here quickly. If the Felicity who took Oliver is as skilled as you are with computers, I don’t think we’re going to have much time to figure out a way to track them… before the trail goes cold.”

* * *

Oliver doesn’t know how long he’s been hanging there listening to his son scream. His head is throbbing and his arms ache. It must have been hours, at least. An unbelievable pain has bloomed in his chest as he hangs there, waiting for his next punishment. He stretches his fingers, but they’re already going numb.

It’s dark and cold and _loud_.

He can’t even think.

Oliver’s so dazed and confused that he doesn’t even notice at first when silence fills the room.

The relief of quiet is short lived. It stretches out in the darkness. He hears his own heartbeat in his ears. A loud thud like a rapid but steady drum. It almost drives Oliver insane.

He’s left there to hang. To do nothing, but think. To wonder why he’s there. To wonder if he deserves this.

Time seems meaningless. How is he supposed to know how much time has passed in utter quietness, in complete darkness? He’s so disoriented from the constant screaming and sudden silence he couldn’t be bothered to count the minutes.

After what seems like an eternity, the lights come on. The immediate flood of light blinds him for a moment. He hears heels coming his way. The other Felicity, Not-Felicity, is moving in.

He blinks his eyes a couple of times, trying to see.

“Oliver.” Her voice sounds so soft and broken.

It sounds like _his Felicity._

Hope sweeps through him for a fleeting moment.

But no, it has to be a trick.

He finally sees her. Her blond hair pulled tight into her signature ponytail. She’s dressed in one of his favorite outfits; the reddish pink dress with the heart cutout in the chest. Her glasses are _her glasses_ and they sit in front of the saddest blue eyes he’s ever seen.

She doesn’t just sound like his Felicity, she looks like his Felicity as well.

Is this real?

“No,” he hisses to himself.

Felicity reaches up and cups his cheek. Her touch is so gentle, so comforting. He finds himself melting into her. He freezes when he doesn’t feel her wedding ring.

“Where’s your ring?”

“I’m leaving you.”

His heart stutters in his chest. “This isn’t real. You’re not _my_ Felicity.”

“But I am.” She looks at him with such sincerity, he really believes it. “We can’t do this anymore, Oliver.”

“Stop.” His voice cracks.

“William is coming with me.”

“Stop!” he begs. “Please.”

She takes his chin in her hand and rubs her thumb across his lower lip. “I never really loved you.”

His stomach twists into knots. _It’s not real._ He feels like he’s going to vomit. The words coming out of her mouth are his worst nightmare. He can’t lose her. _It’s not real_.

“You aren’t her,” he grinds out.

Her grip on his chin tightens. “I don’t know what she sees in you, anyway. You’re really not my type. Too broody and damaged.” She cackles in his face.

“Enough.”

“I will say when it’s enough.”

Earth 2 Felicity finally pulls away and takes a few steps back. She really does look like his Felicity. All except for that devilish smirk on her lips. That dark expression is one he has never seen on his wife’s face.

“She is going to leave you.”

He swallows thickly. “No.”

“I _am_ her, Oliver. I know her mind as well as my own. She is going to leave you for someone less broken. Someone less _ill_.” She lets the last word roll slowly off her tongue before she laughs.

He looks away from her.

“Pouting isn’t going to make it any less true.”

Oliver doesn’t want to listen to this. He can’t listen to this. The pain is unimaginable at this point. It aches and throbs. He feels as if his heart is crumbling in his chest. Felicity isn’t going to leave him.

But what Not-Felicity is saying is true.

_I am broken. I am sick._

“I can see the wheels in your head turning,” she purrs. “You know I’m right. All you do is ruin lives.”

He keeps his eyes averted away from her.

“Tommy, Laurel… she died by your arrow, your mother, your father…. Samantha.”

He swallows back bile. “How do you know all of this?”

“So you admit you ruined their lives?”

“They’re all dead… because of me,” he finally meets her gaze.

“They are. And it’s only a matter of time before your Felicity and William are on that list,” she said, with another dark chuckle, “You see, there’s more than one incentive for her to leave your sorry ass.” She gestures around her. “You couldn’t even give her a proper first date. She could have died that night and it would have been _all your fault._ ”

“How do you know all of this?” he repeats.

“We know everything, Ollie boy,” Adrian says, stepping into the light. Oliver doesn’t even know when he entered the room.

Adrian pulls a pile of photos out of his jacket. Holding one up directly in front of the archer’s face, Oliver sees a photograph of himself and Felicity sharing a kiss. It was shot through a window so it’s grainy, but it’s still good enough quality that he can recognize them both. Fear washes over him when he realizes it was taken just that morning. Adrian flips another one over and he sees William, exiting the bus on his way home from school. From his son’s clothes, Oliver knows that it was a photo shot two days ago. Another picture shows Felicity at Smoak Tech a few days ago, and entering their apartment building last week.

Then it gets even more disturbing.

Pictures from a year ago. Two years ago. Pictures that are so personal and private, he has no idea how they would have got hold of them. They have so many photos of him, his friends, and family, he has to fight to keep from throwing up.

“We know everything,” Not-Felicity punctuates each syllable.

“I don’t understand,” Oliver says, trembling. “How?”

“Well, the Master knows everything,” Adrian grins.

“What do you want?” he whispers, defeated.

“Oh, us?” Not-Felicity shrugs. “We want to see you suffer.”

“But the Master wants you delivered to him in one piece, so if we can’t torture you physically…” Adrian ducks out of the room and returns with a laptop, setting it up on a half-broken table he pulls in front of the hanging archer. “We’re going to make sure we torture the hell out of you mentally. Breaking you will be so much fun.”

“Not that there’s much left to break,” Not-Felicity sings.

“Oh yeah,” Adrian nods. “I mean, even your wife and son think you’re messed up.”

“You’re lying,” Oliver says.

“Am I?” Adrian quirks an eyebrow. The psychopath opens up the laptop screen.

It’s some sort of video footage from a camera that has been zoomed in outside the window of their apartment, probably planted in the building opposite. That’s the only explanation for why Felicity wouldn’t have detected it.

It shows Felicity and William sitting at the kitchen table together, working on the kid’s math homework. From their outfits, he can tell the video is only from two days ago.

There’s audio as well.

“ _Dad was acting strangely this morning,_ ” William said. “ _He got really upset that he spilled the milk over the table. His breathing got all stuttery and he locked himself in the bathroom for a while.”_

“ _Yeah, that happens sometimes, kiddo, don’t worry about it,_ ” Felicity sighed. “ _And if you factorize this expression you get?_ ”

William scribbled something down that his step-mother nodded in approval at. “ _It was just milk though. He didn’t need to act like that about it._ ” He paused and then asked, “ _Is it part of Dad’s PTDS?_ ”

“ _PTSD_ ,” Felicity corrected. She looked troubled. “ _Maybe._ ”

“ _I can’t imagine Dad would get so anxious about milk otherwise,_ ” William muttered.

“ _Sometimes we just need to be patient with him, William. All three of us have our own forms of PTSD and if Oliver’s makes him worry about milk, then we need to accept that._ ”

“ _It’s different, though,_ ” William said, writing in his math book. “ _Dad doesn’t accept it._ ”

“ _He doesn’t like to show vulnerability,_ ” Felicity explained. “ _He never has. He views his PTSD as weakness._ ”

William stopped writing. “ _Do you think Dad thinks I’m weak for having PTSD?_ ” he asked quietly.

Oliver refuses to listen or watch this anymore. He will not intrude on this private moment between his wife and son. “Turn it off,” he growls at the two Earth 2-ers.

“What was that, pet?” Not-Felicity smirks.

He snaps. “TURN IT OFF!” he shouts. “I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS!”

To his surprise, Adrian does what he asks and closes the laptop screen.

“Aw, is somebody going to cry?” Not-Felicity pouts, trailing her fingertips over Oliver’s face. He tries to lean away from her hands, but fails epically and just ends up hanging from his restraints, feet dragging on the floor. “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s okay to cry here. Nobody is going to give a shit. Mostly because nobody gives a shit about you.”

“Not Felicity, not William… not anybody on your team…” Adrian lists.

“Technically, you could say the only people who truly care about you are us,” Not-Felicity laughs. “And that’s because you’re _such_ a lovely plaything to torture.”

“Is that all I am to you?” he says feebly. “Entertainment?”

“Hmm, I could use you for a certain different type of _entertainment_ later on,” Adrian hums, glancing down the archer’s half-naked form with a hungry look in his eyes that makes Oliver squirm uncomfortably. “What do you think, Felicity, dear?”

“Sounds perfect,” Not-Felicity replies, a glint in her eyes. “I think the bondage makes it even more _exciting_.”

A cell phone rings. A look of annoyance crosses Adrian’s face as he pulls the ringing phone out of his pocket and glances down at it. He and Not-Felicity exchange irritated expressions.

The two of them walk out without speaking another word to Oliver.

The darkness falls again.

The horrific audio of William screaming starts up.

Oliver’s sanity is suspended by one last, terrifyingly thin thread.

* * *

Felicity feels like she’s standing on the edge of a skyscraper, dangerously close to tipping forwards into a deadly freefall. She’s been sitting at her computer set-up in the bunker for the last half an hour, trying to analyze the CCTV footage from the bunker and hack into the city’s larger traffic camera network to try and track Adrian Chase and the Alternate-Her who kidnapped her husband.

John and Dinah are speaking in hushed voices at the bottom of the steps, and by the prickles at the back of her neck, Felicity knows they’re looking at her worriedly. They have the right to be concerned.

Felicity is _horrified_. A woman looking just like her, exactly like her, pretended to be her to get to Oliver. Oliver didn’t have any idea that it was an imposter when he’d been attacked by her. Oliver thought that it was his wife drugging and kidnapping him.

And now, Oliver is somewhere lost and hidden in the city, within Earth 2 Chase’s clutches with an Alternate-Felicity probably taking advantage of the fact she looks like the archer’s husband to break down those carefully constructed, protective mental walls of Oliver’s… playing on every insecurity he’s ever had.

Felicity’s not stupid. She knows that Oliver has major trust issues and paranoia due to his PTSD and she knows that he constantly feels as if he isn’t good enough for her. That he can never be enough for her, and that one day she might leave him, as ludicrous as that would be.

This Alternate-Felicity could destroy everything that she has build with Oliver trust-wise. As drugged as her husband is, Felicity knows that he will be confused and dazed… he might not even realize that it isn’t actually his Felicity he’s face to face with.

The elevator doors of the bunker open, snapping Felicity back to the present.

Rene and Curtis immediately exit and head up onto the platform to join her.

“John filled us in over the phone,” Rene says, looking strangely worried. “You got any leads, Felicity?”

“Do you think I’d be sitting here tearing my hair out if I did?” she hisses back at him.

“Whoa, hey,” John says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Rene was just asking a question. Calm down.”

“I cannot calm down, John,” Felicity retorts. “My husband has been _kidnapped_ by Earth 2 Adrian Chase and Evil Earth Whatever Felicity Smoak and they could be torturing him to _death_ right now, and you want me to _calm down_?!”

Curtis takes a wary step back. “Maybe we should focus on trying to find Oliver than fighting?” He glances around the room. “I am reading this situation correctly, aren’t I? We’re teaming up again? Team Arrow Reassemble?”

“To rescue Oliver, of course,” Dinah replies.

“Oliver would hate it, but it’s necessary,” Felicity says. “He’s not here, and I am… I’m taking charge. Team Arrow is getting back together. I’m officially re-hiring all of you. My husband can take it up with me if he has any complaints.”

John nods approvingly. “Felicity, is there anything you can tell us?”

Taking a deep breath, she draws up the CCTV and traffic camera footage. “Well, we know that Earth 2 Adrian Chase is working for the Master, and that guy has a seriously weird obsession with luring Oliver to places that have meaning to him and his loved ones. Judging by the last traffic camera snapshot on Fifth and Mason, I’ve worked out several possible routes they could have taken that all coincide with places of interest.”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Rene says.

“There is,” she shakes her head. “With this Alternate Felicity on the board… Earth 2 Chase, I can predict, but her? I can’t. She’s a completely unknown variable.”

“I guess it would be ridiculous to ask where you would take him if you were kidnapping Oliver and wanted to make him suffer, huh?” Curtis asks, trying to go for a joke but it fell flat epically.

She doesn’t respond to the joke at all. “I’ve compiled a list of all possible locations I can think of where they could be keeping Oliver and I’ve sent it to all your phones.”

“We’ll check them out,” Dinah says. She, Curtis and Rene start unpacking their suits and weapons, heading to the living quarters to change. John, it seems, has decided that with his injured arm, there’s no point in joining them. “Don’t worry, Felicity, we’ll get him back.”

But what if they don’t?

What if it’s too late already?

What if Earth 2 Adrian Chase and Alternate Felicity _killed him_?

A wave of dizziness crashes over her, forcing Felicity to clutch at the counter for balance as breathing suddenly becomes incredibly difficult. She stands despite knowing it’s a bad idea, trying to escape the room. No. This can’t happen now. The rest of the team have gone, but John is still here, watching her, and she can’t let him see how weak and upset she is. She can’t let him see how her anxiety controls her. Head swimming and aching, she feels as if her lungs are being constricted. Felicity’s inhalations are stuttered and shallow as she struggles for oxygen, stumbling down the staircase. She’s slipping very quickly into a panic attack and it’s too late to stop it.

She wants Oliver.

_But Oliver’s gone._

“I’ve got you,” John’s soothing voice washes over her. “I’m here, Felicity, I’ve got you. You’re okay. Just try and take deep, slow breaths.”

She can’t help but flinch minutely when she feels gentle hands take hold of her arms, beginning to guide her down carefully from the computer platform towards the couches. A warm weight settles into Felicity’s side as she sits down, arms wrapping around her to help her feel more secure. The tightness in her chest eases slightly, the fog in her mind clearing.

“You feel better?” John asks softly, keeping her hugged to his chest as he rests his chin on the crown of her head.

“Little,” she manages, flushing from embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, none of that,” John admonishes her. “No apologizing. Everybody has those moments where their emotions overwhelm them, Felicity. It’s perfectly human. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

There’s still a faint fluttering of anxiety coiled up in her chest that causes her hands to tremble, but she feels a lot calmer now. “Oliver’s somewhere out there being tormented by alternate versions of his worst enemy and his wife and I’m here having a panic attack and being generally useless… some life partner I am,” she mutters.

“You are _not_ useless,” John says sternly. “Don’t you ever dare say that. You’ve already given us a couple of locations to check out. You are going to find Oliver and we are going to rescue him. That’s far from useless.”

“I just hope when we find him, we’re not too late. Adrian Chase has always had a knack for getting into Oliver’s head and… well… I can’t even imagine how much an alternate Earth, evil me would be able to mess with his mind.”

“We’ll get to him on time,” John reassures. “This isn’t going to be like the last time Chase had him, Felicity… we’re going to get him back.” His cell phone chirps from his pocket. Checking it, he says apologetically, “It’s Lyla, I have to take this.”

Felicity nods. “Talk to her. See if she can give us any information about how this alternate Earth Felicity broke Chase out of ARGUS lock-up. I’m going to sweep the city with facial recognition to see if I can find anything more.”

As John strides off, the blonde pulls out her own cell phone. She can barely hold back her tears as she peers down at the lock screen, a selfie William took with the three of them at City Hall. In the picture, Oliver is sitting at his desk trying to work, looking mildly irritated but also amused by his wife and son’s antics, as Felicity presses a kiss to his cheek with a wink at the camera, and William hangs around Oliver’s neck, making a silly face.

God, William.

Does she tell her step-son that his father has been kidnapped… does she tell him who kidnapped him?

She and Oliver promised not to lie to William anymore.

But if William knows about what’s happened to his father, he’ll want to join them in the bunker and help out with the search. He would fight to be involved with Team Arrow, and Felicity knows that Oliver doesn’t want that.

She determines that if they don’t find Oliver by dawn, she’ll tell William everything.

Staring down at the lock screen photo and focusing in on her husband’s face, Felicity murmurs, “Stay strong, Oliver… wherever you are, whatever they’re doing to you… fight to come home for me and William. Stay strong.”

* * *

Across the other side of the city, Oliver bows his head, collapsed in the chains stringing him up. Weak, tired and emotionally drained, he hasn’t got the strength to hold himself up anymore. The manacles dig into his wrists, biting into the skin there and drawing blood, so a faint coppery smell cuts through the intense scent of burnt plastic and wood. The lights have been turned up to blinding again and as much as he wants to fall asleep, let himself become unconscious, the sheer brightness of the room doesn’t allow it.

The audio of William screaming has been replaced with various different clips cut together. Babies crying. Nails on a blackboard. Cats yowling. An electric drill. A woman drowning. Dogs barking and snarling.

Around him, hundreds of photos have been littered onto the floor. Photos of Oliver and Felicity kissing at a charity event. The two of them picking William up at school. Rene taking Zoe and Will out to Big Belly Burger. The double date between him, Felicity, John, and Lyla. Felicity and Curtis working in Smoak Tech Headquarters together.

These are the nice pictures, snippets showing Oliver and his loved ones’ lives where they are happy and content. Intruding on their privacy to capture stills of precious personal moments.

But then there are the _other_ photos. Felicity, barely alive in hospital after the Ghost attack that ended with her paralyzed. Laurel, dead and lifeless in the morgue. Pictures from her funeral as well. Quentin, crying and defeated and surrounded by bottles in his apartment after one of his daughter’s deaths… what’s horrific is that Oliver can’t tell which one. And then… there are the photos of Oliver, from last year when Chase held him captive and tortured him for a week. Bloody and vulnerable and broken.

The audio shuts off again and Oliver almost cries in relief, but he knows that the audio being turned off means that Felicity or Chase will be coming back in.

It’s Felicity.

No, it’s not.

It’s _Not-Felicity_. Earth 2 Felicity.

He has to keep that clear distinction in his mind, otherwise he will actually go crazy.

“We’re going to play a game,” she tells him, smiling delightedly.

Oliver shudders. “Sorry, not in the mood,” he rasps.

Clucking her tongue at him, she scolds, “You’re playing whether you want to or not.”

She pulls a half-broken chair up, swinging it around so she can perch on the edge of it, only a foot away from where Oliver hangs. The archer instantly recognizes the small machine she’s holding in her hand as a taser. He tenses instinctively, clawing at the chains with broken fingernails, a cracked sound of fear tearing out of his throat before he can stop it. She laughs in the face of his fright and strokes over his hair, face, and chest again, like he’s a startled animal she’s trying and failing to comfort.

“It’s alright, pet,” she says. “You play the game correctly and I don’t have to use this.” She waggled the taser in the air. “But if you don’t…” She jams the device against his bare abdomen. Oliver choked out a cry of pain as the electricity surges through his body, frying his nerves and making him convulse. It’s not too high a voltage, not as agonizing as some tasers he’s been hit with before, but it’s still painful. “Zap, zap!”

“Fine,” he grits out. “What’s the game?”

“Just a simple true or false,” Not-Felicity says innocently, but the darkness shining in her eyes makes him realize that this is not going to be simple, not at all. “I say a statement, you have to tell me whether it’s true or false. If you get it right, no taser. If you get it wrong -”

“I get it,” he cuts in hastily, before she can stab him with the taser again to make her point. “Zap, zap. Okay.”

Her lip curls up into a cruel smirk. “Alright. First statement: you’re a monster.”

His heart skips a beat. So _that’s_ what this game is about. Forcing him to degrade himself. He knows what the answer she wants is. “True,” he says.

She zaps him anyway.

“I said it was true,” he pants, once the pain has subsided and she’s pulled the taser away.

“You didn’t mean it though,” Not-Felicity smiles sympathetically. “I’m going to need you to say it.”

His throat thick, his voice cracks as he says, “I’m a monster.”

“What was that, honey?”

“I’m a monster,” he repeats, louder this time.

_It’s not true, not true, not true, got to make her think I believe it._

She narrows her eyes at him. “Hmm. We’ll come back to that later, I think. Second statement: I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“True,” he answers.

“Interesting, you believe that one.”

“Always have, always will,” he says.

“Alright. Third statement: Felicity and William will leave you, and you will leave them.”

There’s absolutely no way he’s saying what she wants on this one. He doesn’t care that he’ll get tased. “False.” He bears the agony of the electrification with pride.

Not-Felicity repeats the statement. He says false again. She tasers him again. He keeps his chin held high. He will _never_ leave Felicity and William, and he knows that would never leave him.

“You’re not budging from that answer, huh, are you, pet?” she chuckles darkly.

He shrugs, or tries to at least. His muscles don’t quite respond properly. His head rolls against his shoulder. “No.”

“I guess I’ll have to train that response out of you then,” Felicity says.

“They’re not going to leave me.”

“Really? Because, sweetie, I think they already have.”

She picks up more photos from where she dropped them when first entering the room. She shows them to him - and Oliver’s heart drops like a stone in his chest. There’s a picture of William, playing video games with Zoe and Raisa in his apartment. It’s from today. He looks happy and carefree. But that’s easily explainable. Maybe he doesn’t know Oliver’s been kidnapped. But wouldn’t Felicity have told him?

Then there are several photos of Felicity. Felicity at Smoak Tech, laughing with one of her colleagues. Felicity in the bunker… sitting on a couch and cuddling with John. Felicity sitting at her station with a blank expression, eating a packet of chips and typing.

Oliver frowns. She’s searching for him. She must be. She was hugging John because she… was upset. Her face wasn’t visible to the camera. And she must be compartmentalized, that was why she wasn’t angry or distressed while at her computer set-up.

Felicity’s looking for him, to rescue him.

She must be.

She… she has to be.

“Poor baby,” Felicity laughs, patting his head again like he’s a dog. “You seriously thought they were trying to find you.”

“They are,” he says, but his voice is uncertain.

“Oh, pet, no they’re not,” Felicity replies.

No, wait. No, it’s Not-Felicity talking to him. It’s not his Felicity.

But when the taser touches his chest again and the pain strikes, the distinction flies out of his head.

There’s no point in remembering when he’s going to get hurt either way.

There’s no point in remembering when he doesn’t think he’s going to get out of here.

Oliver’s sobbing uncontrollably now.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

* * *

All of the locations Felicity sent the team to check out turn up empty. All of the possible leads she thought she had… result in nothing. There’s no trace of Alternate-Felicity, Earth 2 Chase of Oliver in any of them. Dinah, Curtis, and Rene return from their scouting missions frustrated, furious and even more upset than before. John, who has been helping Felicity in her intel searches (which have also turned up basically nothing), sweeps his arm across the conference table when he hears their news, sending a glass of water smashing to the floor. Nobody moves to clean it up.

“This Alternate-Felicity is almost as good as I am,” Felicity mutters, still tapping at her tablet trying to set up another facial recognition algorithm to run, on hacked private CCTV this time rather than traffic cameras. “She’s hidden Oliver well.”

“You said ‘almost as good’,” Rene notes.

“Yes. Well. I’m extremely angry at the moment and that gives me an edge that she doesn’t have.” Placing another list of potential locations onto the table, she says, “Last time, you were looking at locations connected to the Queen family, and specifically to Oliver. It’s also possible that they’ve taken Oliver to a location that’s connected to this Earth’s Adrian Chase.”

“What about locations that are connected to _you?_ ” Dinah questions.

Felicity swallows. “I can add those to the search list as well.”

“I think the Alternate-Felicity is important here,” John says. “From the CCTV footage, she seemed to be the one calling the shots, not Chase. We need to focus on her more.”

“I don’t see how we can,” Felicity shakes her head. “She and I are completely different… I can’t give you an insight into her thoughts or plans at all. At least Earth 2 Chase is as evil and psychotic as this Earth’s… there aren’t any obvious similarities between me and my multiverse counterpart.”

“Apart from you both being geniuses with tech,” Rene comments, his voice snide. “That’s one similarity. There has to be more. You can’t be too dissimilar.”

Felicity seethes silently, wanting so badly to snap at Rene for even suggesting that she and this Alternate-Felicity who kidnapped her husband could be alike. But John settles a hand on her shoulder, grounding her and quietly urging her to bite back her remark. They need to concentrate on finding Oliver. And to do that, they need to work effectively as a team. She’s the one who re-hired the others, after Oliver fired them, and so she has to wrangle them back into shape.

She adds a couple of places to the location list in pen: the podium where Oliver first proposed to her, the location of their fake wedding, where their most recent dates have been, and several others that pop into her mind. “I’ll text you if I think of any more.” Her gaze flits up to Rene, cold and stern. “Don’t you dare suggest that I’m comparable to that bitch who drugged and abducted my husband again. I re-hired you for Team Arrow, but I can fire you in a second.”

Rene snatches the list from the table and storms off. Dinah shoots her an apologetic look and hurries after him, Curtis following in their wake.

As Felicity and John return to the computer platform, John says softly, “Rene didn’t mean what he said.”

“I know,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “But he still said it. Knowing that there’s another version of me out there who’s probably torturing Oliver right now is… not pleasant to think about.”

John nods sympathetically. “I can’t even imagine.”

Staring down at her keyboard, Felicity bites her lip, fighting back tears as she imagines a cruel doppelganger of herself throwing cruel words towards Oliver, convincing him that he’s unlovable and that everybody he cares about will turn on him. “I’m scared, John,” she admits. “Last year, when Chase kidnapped Oliver… we never found him, we only got him back when Chase decided to let him go… and Oliver was broken. If this Earth’s version of Chase was able to damage him that much, then Earth 2’s version can as well. Add in the fact that there’s an evil, alternate me torturing him too…”

“You’re worried about the psychological impact,” John frowns.

“Oliver can withstand physical torture,” she says. “Both of us know that. Chase broke him last year because he combined physical torture with psychological torture. Just the fact there’s somebody who looks exactly like me hurting him is going to fuck with Oliver’s mind.”

Her phone chirrups.

She picks it up, expecting it to be one of the other team members, but to her surprise, it’s not her phone.

“Felicity,” John says urgently, pointing down at the other mobile device resting on the counter.

It’s Oliver’s phone.

She lunges across the platform to grab at it, tripping over her chair in her desperation. She knows Oliver’s code (he changed it to William’s birthday, something easily memorable so she couldn’t tease him about forgetting it again) and taps it in with trembling fingers to see the message that has been sent to it. It might just be Quentin texting him about mayoral work, or even Thea, or Roy, updating the archer on their trip together, but it could be something else. Somebody else.

The message is from an unknown number.

She sees the contents of it, and immediately has to throw the cell phone down so she can rush to the edge of the platform’s staircase to throw up into the trash can at the bottom.

The photo attached, of Oliver hanging lifeless from chains in a crumbling, burning building, where she can’t even tell if he’s alive or dead, will be permanently seared into her brain for the rest of her existence.

“Oh god,” she hears John say in a hushed, shocked voice.

“No, no, no, no, no,” she shakes her head frantically. “He’s alive, he has to be alive.”

“Another message just came through,” John tells her. “ _Not dead yet. Would be a shame to kill a pet with such a pretty face so soon, before we can get other uses out of him. His screams are beautiful to listen to. Can’t wait to enjoy that body of his before he’s too broken to play with._ ” He bares his teeth in a ferocious growl. “They’re gloating.”

“You don’t think they’d actually…” She feels like she’s about to be sick at just the thought of it.

“Rape him?” John finishes, his voice low and dark. “Probably not… they’re working for the Master, remember? From this photo, I can see they haven’t hurt him too badly. McKnight most likely wants him delivered in good condition.”

She doesn’t want to look at that photo again. Felicity knows that if she does, she’ll just throw up more. Taking a sip of water to try and get rid of the terrible taste of bile at the back of her throat, she shakily returns to her chair and plugs the phone into her monitor, instantly pulling up a tracing programme.

“I’m blocked from hacking it,” she grits out. “It’s GPS is switched off and I can’t turn it back on…” Her eyes widen in realization as she figures out something she can try. “Wait, I think I know what to do.” A minute later, after swiftly typing several lines of complicated code, she shouts out in triumph. “GOT IT! I was able to trace the last signal tower the cell phone used, to send the text.”

“Where is it?” John demands, rushing forward to hover over her.

She stabs her finger onto a virtual map of Star City. “Here. That’s the tower. Oliver’s got to be nearby.” That haunting picture of her husband at the back of her mind provides her with the final answer, and she gapes, not fully believing what she’s figured out. “No way.”

Hacking into the CCTV nearby where she thinks Alternate-Felicity and Earth 2 Chase might have transported her husband to, she finds footage from several hours ago of the same black car they shoved Oliver into outside the bunker, parked in an alleyway.

“Felicity!?” John slams his hand down on the counter, his voice stricken with panic. “What’s going on? Talk to me!”

Wheeling around in the chair, she orders sharply, “Call back the others. Get the van ready. I know where they’ve taken him.”

* * *

It seems like eons since she’s been at this restaurant. The place was condemned after her first date with Oliver and yet here she is, standing just outside of it. She is grateful and suspicious to be here. If it hadn’t been for Adrian and Alternate-Felicity’s gloating, they wouldn’t be there. It could be a trap. But considering the phone was unhackable, and it was just a trick utilizing signal towers she’d used to figure out the location...

At this point, the only thing Felicity cares about is getting Oliver back.

They enter the restaurant through a broken down back entrance, clambering through the relatively intact kitchens near the rear of the building. There’s old police tape everywhere and several condemned notices from the health department, warning that the place is unstable. Dinah kicks the final door separating the kitchens from the restaurant floor down and the team rushes inside. She, Rene, and Curtis go in first, armed to the teeth with their anger fueling their actions. Felicity follows behind with Diggle at her back, much more cautious.

The smell of burnt flesh fills her nose. Covering her mouth with her sleeve, she fights back a coughing fit caused by the stale, polluted air. As they head further inside, burnt flesh mixes with the stale stench of the rotting building around them. Everything had been left as it was after the explosion. It’s eerie; table pieces, broken chairs, and ash are scattered everywhere. She sees everything under a blinding white light.

Felicity forces her gaze away from the harsh light and onto the floor. What seems like hundreds of photos litter the ground. Some of the most intimate moments among her, Oliver, and William, along with little moments with their friends and family. Torture scenes from last year and so much more. _Oh god, what have they been doing?_

“Shit,” she hears her own voice say across the room.

“You said they wouldn’t be able to find us,” Adrian says fiercely.

“They weren’t supposed to be able to,” she hisses.

Without another word, they bolt in opposite directions. Felicity glances over at the rest of the team with a silent order; Dinah and Rene run after Adrian, while Curtis goes after Alternate-Felicity. Neither of the villains were armed when they started running, so she knows that the team will able to handle capturing them just fine.

Then she sees Oliver.

“Oh god,” Felicity’s heart stutters in her chest.

Oliver hangs from the ceiling from chains, blood drips down his wrists, and burn marks litter his abdomen. They _have_ been torturing him. She couldn’t really see him properly in the photo. Tears burn in her eyes, but she forces herself to blink them away. Her chest tightens, anxious tremors beginning to shake her body. She fights the panic attack off; she can’t show weakness right now. She needs to be strong.

“C’mon.” Her voice cracks as she waves John over to Oliver.

John carefully gets Oliver down to his feet. The archer barely seems to realize what’s happening, his eyes half-lidded and body limp. He’s dazed and confused, unsteady on his legs as he sways, rubbing at his raw wrists with a feral, pained sound, not dissimilar from a noise an injured, cornered animal would make. John stands guard, his gun out, watching just in case Adrian or the other Felicity come by, but he’s distracted by the horrific state of his best friend.

“We need to get you to Dr Schwartz,” Felicity says softly, trying to move in front of her husband so Oliver will meet her eyes. But he refuses to, averting his gaze to the floor. He takes a stumbling step backward, away from his wife and friend, mumbling incoherently under his breathe. Her heart seizes. “Oliver, come on, we’ve got to get you out of here,” Felicity continues, stepping towards him slowly.

Oliver startles instantly at her small motion, darting forward and around Felicity. His movement is very quick for someone who has just spent hours being tortured, and it surprises both Felicity and John. Surprises them both so much that neither of them has time to react when the archer snatches the gun out of John’s injured hand with ease. The gun is immediately turned on Felicity.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarls. His eyes are wild and ferocious, the terror and fear there evident.

Felicity raises her hands up in surrender, backing off. Her heart pounds rapidly, adrenalin flooding her veins and prompting her to run, but she remains frozen in place. He stares her down, but he’s not looking at her. Oliver doesn’t _see her_. He sees the other Felicity. The woman who tortured him. Her chest aches in a way she can barely explain. He’s never looked at her that way before. _Like she’s a monster._

“Okay, okay,” she says carefully. The way he’s acting is starkly different to his behavior during a PTSD episode, but she reckons that if she treats him with heedfulness and respect, he might calm down. “I won’t touch you. I’m not going to hurt you, Oliver.”

“You’re a liar,” he breathes out.

John tries to reassure him, his voice firm as he orders, “Stop, man. It’s Felicity. Put the gun down.”

“No!” Oliver shouts. “I won’t!”

She jumps at his sudden aggressive tone, and her hands shoot up higher.

Oliver looks so tired and broken. All she wants to do is take him in her arms and hold him until it doesn’t hurt anymore. She wants to make the woman who did this to him pay. His hand wavers and he lowers the gun, but only for a moment.

Suddenly, the barrel is pressed to his temple rather than aimed at her.

“Oliver!” she stumbles forward, but he moves backward.

“Felicity and William are going to leave me,” he whispers. “You drilled it into my head over and over again. This is what you want isn’t it?” He’s shouting now. “Isn’t it!? This is the whole point of that sick game you played?!”

“No!” she screams. “That wasn’t me!”

The panic she felt earlier is nothing like what she is feeling now. Her hands shake and tears begin rolling down her cheeks.

“Oliver, _please_. That other woman… She isn’t me. You know me. You know who I am.”

His finger hovers over the trigger.

Felicity and John exchange looks, ready to move forward if it looks as if Oliver is actually going to shoot. She has no idea whether they’d be able to tackle him to the floor in time, but she will not watch her husband shoot himself.

“Not one more step,” he grinds out, obviously guessing by their nervous shifting that they might rush him. “I won’t be your pet anymore. I am my own person and if I want to kill myself, _I WILL!_ ” His voice raises to a bellow.

She swallows thickly. “Oliver, I am _not_ that Felicity. It’s me. _Your Felicity_. Trust your heart. You know deep inside who I am. _Please_ ,” she whispers the last word.

Oliver licks his lips and closes his eyes. “Even if you are my Felicity, you’re still going to leave. That’s what _she_ said. And if she’s a version of you, then that means it has to be some version of the truth.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere. I’m glue, baby.”

Tears roll down his cheeks.

“I love you so much, Oliver. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to fight anymore. Please. You’re safe. Chase and that version of me, they can’t hurt you anymore. We’re here for you.”

“We’re all real,” John adds.

Oliver’s eyes squeeze shut even tighter. His grip on the gun is so hard his hand shakes violently. Felicity watches his trigger finger carefully. He screams and tosses the gun to the floor. Slowly, he slumps down to his knees, sobbing as hard as he’s shaking.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he manages to say in between sobs.

Felicity rushes to him, sliding down to her knees in front of him. Still, she doesn’t touch him. When Oliver is like this, it’s dangerous to try and touch him, because if he’s stuck in a PTSD mindset, he could think she’s attacking him and lash out at her. Behind her, she can hear John picking up the gun.

“I don’t know what to believe,” the archer whispers defeatedly.

“Believe what you feel.” Checking with him first, she gently presses her hand to his chest, right above his heart. “Look into your heart.”

He puts a shaking hand over hers, curling his cold, blood-stained fingers into her palm. His thumb swipes over her wedding ring.

“Oh god,” Oliver whimpers, dropping his head down onto her shoulder.

“We’re connected.” She pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace. “We’re soulmates.” She kisses the crown of his head as he cries into her collarbone.

“We got them,” Dinah’s voice rings out behind her.

She turns her head slightly to see Dinah, Rene, and Curtis hauling in Alternate-Felicity and Earth 2 Adrian Chase. The two don’t even look upset to have been caught; they smirk at the state of Oliver, glancing between each other smugly. Felicity hugs the archer tightly and presses another gentle kiss to his head.

“It’s all over now. You’re safe,” she whispers into his hair. “I just need to do one thing. I will be right back. I’m not leaving you.”

He looks up at her with watery blue eyes. His sobs have only slowed just slightly. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Felicity sits with him for a moment longer as he catches his breath, waiting until Oliver stops hyperventilating. John carefully approaches from the side, placing a gentle hand on Oliver’s shoulder and kneeling down, relieving Felicity of her duty to him. She stands and turns towards Dinah who has a cuffed Alternate-Felicity in front of her. It’s odd staring down _herself._ She shakes that thought away. This woman is nothing like her. She’s evil. _Insane._

“It’s too bad you didn’t let my husband and I play with him a little longer,” she says, “It was just getting to the good part.”

 _Husband._ Felicity glances at Adrian and back at the other Felicity with disgust.

“He’s such a good little _pet._ ”

Felicity hauls her arm back and slams her fist into Alternate-Felicity’s mouth as hard as she can. It hurts worse than the time she hit Black Siren, but she doesn’t care. This _monster_ deserves more than a punch to the teeth.

“You will never lay a finger on _my husband_ again,” she hisses.

The Alternate-Felicity laughs at her. “The fact that you still think he’s _yours_ is farcical. I thought he was the foolish one, not you. Oliver Queen belongs to the Master, and denying that will just result in more pain for him.”

Felicity itches with the urge to punch her again, but instead straights up, setting her shoulders. “Is the ARGUS supermax prison facility on Lian Yu still functional?” she asks John.

He nods as he helps Oliver to his feet, Curtis swooping in to help support the archer, as Rene doesn’t need his help to subdue Earth 2 Chase anymore since he’s handcuffed. “Lyla said it survived the explosions.”

“You think locking us up is a viable solution?” Chase scoffs. “I broke out before… I can break out again.”

“Not from this prison, you can’t,” Felicity spits at him.

“We’ll see about that,” Alternate-Felicity sneers back.

“Yes,” Felicity says, remembering the harsh, freezing high-security underground cells of the prison and the unforgiving island, now barren rock due to the fires that ravaged it for weeks after they were trapped on it the last time, on which it’s located. She would love to see them try and escape that hell. “I guess we will.”

* * *

Oliver stares numbly at the floor, swinging his legs back and forth as he sits on the edge of a medical cot, in the private room Team Arrow has basically been assigned in Star City General Hospital. He’s compartmentalized, although purposefully this time, to try and ignore the pain as Dr Schwartz treats the taser burns on his chest with an anti-inflammation cream.

Felicity sits next to him on the bed, cross-legged as she holds his hand while the doctor covers up the burns with bandages. It’s only due to his wife’s presence and reassuring warm weight pressing into his side that Oliver doesn’t slip into flashbacks of the last twelve hours.

“Get some rest, drink plenty of water, take the pills I’ve prescribed and stay in bed tomorrow,” Dr Schwartz advises quietly. “You should be fine.”

“Thank you,” Oliver murmurs, shooting her a grateful look.

The doctor nods. “I’m going to go and get your pills from the storeroom… Felicity, you remember how codeine doses work?”

“I’m all too similar,” Felicity responds, smiling weakly at the reminder of the course of painkillers she was on, shortly after being paralyzed two years ago. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

The doctor exits, leaving Oliver and Felicity behind… with the rest of the team, who are all scattered throughout the room, leaning against the walls. Oliver can’t meet any of their gazes without flinching so keeps his eyes fixed on the wall as he speaks to them.

“Thank you,” he says. “For helping Felicity find me.”

“You would have done the same for us,” Dinah replies.

“Yes, but after I fired you from the team, you had no obligation to help me at all.”

“We may not be your teammates anymore, Oliver, but we’re still your friends,” Curtis frowns. “And there was no _obligation_. We _wanted_ to help find you. We wanted to save you from those two maniacs.”

“Ah, when you say ‘not teammates anymore’,” Rene cut in. “Technically we _are_ teammates, because Felicity re-hired us while you were kidnapped.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow and turns to face his wife. Felicity blinks back at him warmly, squeezing his hand encouragingly. “She was right to,” he responds. “I realize now that it wasn’t fair of me at all, as your leader… and as your friend, to fire you like I did. None of you deserved that kind of treatment. I was being stubborn and I was stuck in my own head…” He glances down, cheeks flushing with shame. “And I was scared. I didn’t want any of you to get hurt because of this vendetta McKnight has against me. You all have your own personal lives outside of the team and I didn’t want you caught up with vigilante work instead of focusing on your lives… I’ve fallen into that trap too many times. It’s one of the things I’ve been terrified about since William started living with me. I thought that if any of you ended up getting injured or killed working on the team... not just hurting you, but hurting your families in the process…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. And I mean that. I should have communicated my concerns with you all better, rather than pushed you away as all my instincts constantly scream at me to when you’re placed in possible danger.”

“Thank you for your apology,” John says, and Curtis, Dinah, and Rene all nod in agreement behind him. “To be honest, you’re not completely at fault. We shouldn’t have flared up so angrily at you when you first announced our firing; we should have insisted we talk it out.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he continues in a much lighter tone, “Is this an official re-hiring then?”

“It seems like my wife has already sorted that out for me,” Oliver says, turning to brush a kiss against the side of Felicity’s head. “But yes, you’re all re-hired.”

Everybody in the room collectively sighs in relief.

“Lyla has asked for people to accompany her on delivering Earth 2 Chase and Alternate-Felicity to Lian Yu, so Curtis and I are going to go,” Dinah announces. “Did we ever find out what Earth that Felicity is from, in the end?”

“Earth 2,” Oliver answers her with a faint shudder. “Where she’s apparently married to Adrian Chase.”

“And evil,” Felicity adds. “Very, very evil. Can’t forget that.”

“Is everybody from Earth 2 evil?” Curtis muses.

“Earth 2 Laurel, Earth 2 Felicity, Earth 2 Chase…” Felicity counts them off. “I know a lot of the Earth 2 counterparts of Team Flash are evil as well.”

“Kind of glad an evil version of you didn’t come through,” Dinah says, looking at Oliver.

“I’m dead on that Earth,” he replies. “My dad’s alive and he’s the Green Arrow there.” Just talking about the multiverse is making his head spin, and body ache in remembrance of what the Earth 2-ers subjected him to. Glancing at his wife, he asks in a rather pleading tone, “Can we go home now?”

“Of course,” Felicity replies, her voice hushed.

“I’ll go and check on Dr Schwartz with that prescription,” John says, heading for the door.

The other members of the team say their farewells, following John out of the door. Felicity and Oliver are left behind, sitting together on the medical bed in comfortable silence.

“It’s not just a painkiller prescription,” Oliver says suddenly, feeling like he should be entirely truthful.

Felicity frowns. “What?”

“Dr Schwartz is prescribing me sedatives as well,” he explains, swallowing as he looks down at his hands sheepishly. “She whispered it to me earlier so that none of you could hear. She said an event like this can cause a flare-up of my PTSD and… I’ve mentioned to her before about how during nightmares, I can get violent.”

Felicity nods thoughtfully, and then admits quietly, “I think I have some kind of heightened anxiety disorder.”

Oliver goes still. “You…”

“I think I’ve always had a problem with anxiety,” Felicity murmurs. “But ever since the island, I’ve been affected by it a lot more. I get nervous about little things, agitated over stuff that I didn’t use to. I realize now that I was being distant and hesitant when it came to spending time with you after William began living with you, because my anxiety was insisting that taking up _any_ of your time would be taking up too much of it, when you should have been focusing on William. I startle more easily and I get jumpy in the bunker, especially when you’re on missions. Earlier, when we were struggling for leads on how to find you, I had some sort of panic attack.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” he asks gently.

“There never really seemed to be a right time,” she sighs. “Although I see now… that was my anxiety telling me that. I should have told you. I should have been honest.”

“Thank you for telling me now,” he replies, hugging her to his side.

“I’m going to make an appointment to see a doctor about it,” Felicity decides.

John steps back in, rattling a prescription bag. “Got the pills. I’ll drive both of you home.”

“Thank you, John,” Felicity says.

“Yes, thank you,” Oliver echoes quietly, immediately withdrawing slightly now that it’s not just him and his wife in the room. “I’m sure William really wants to see us both.”

Felicity’s eyes widen in realization. “Oh shit. I didn’t tell him about you being kidnapped… I didn’t tell him _anything at all._ ” She groans, dropping her head into her hands. “He’s going to hate me.”

“He could never hate you,” he reassures, dancing his fingers over her palm soothingly. “We’ll tell him together.”

And tonight, when the two of them are alone, he might finally be able to relax.

* * *

Steam fills the bathroom as Felicity cranks the shower on. This is exactly what he needs, to wash the day away. Or at least try to. It’s been one of the longest, hardest days he can remember, but he’s grateful to be home with Felicity and William. Will is already tucked into bed, leaving the apartment utterly quiet.

Telling Will about the kidnapping was… tough to say the least. He never wants to worry William, but he doesn’t want to keep him in the dark either. It’s not fair to lie to him or keep secrets. They sat him down and told him what happened, save some of the darker details. It took a lot of reassuring before his son believed he’s going to be okay.

He watches intently as Felicity strips her clothing away. Each article of clothing is carefully pulled from her body and left to pool on the bathroom floor. He does away with his own clothes and steps closer to her, so she can check the waterproof coverings over his burns are secure. She steps aside, letting him in first.

Oliver lets out a soft sigh when the hot water hits his body. If he were taking a shower alone he would turn the hot water all the way up. He would let the water burn his skin until he’s raw and red. He could burn away Earth 2 Felicity’s touch. Burn away the torture and scrub at his skin until he feels like he can face the world. He knows it’s a form of self-harm; he doesn’t need a doctor to tell him that. There’s a reason Felicity’s taking a shower with him.

His wife steps in and closes the shower door. They stand there for a moment just looking at each other. He doesn’t know what to say or do. _That woman_ did things to him, said things that he will never forget. She looks like Felicity and it made everything that much harder.

“You’re home. You’re safe,” Felicity says.

“How do you always know what’s on my mind?”

“Because I _know_ you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the threat of a smile, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. Felicity reaches out to him hesitantly. She places her hand on his shoulder and carefully stands on tiptoe. Her lips press into his chest, a gentle kiss above his heart.

“I love you,” she mumbles.

Oliver wraps his arms around her. “I love you too.”

He holds her there for several seconds, enjoying the feel of her body in his arms. She’s real. She’s here. She is _his_ Felicity and she loves him. He needs these reminders.

When he lets her go, Felicity reaches for a soft loofah and his body soap. She lathers up the loofah and gently presses it to his body. He lets out a shaky breath, but doesn’t move. He wants this. Felicity carefully washes every inch of his body. Part of him manages to relax. She’s washing away what the other woman did. She’s taking back her place because he is hers. He always has been.

Felicity sets the loofah aside and wraps her arms around him. Her chin sits on his chest and she looks up at him with adoring but worried eyes. He wraps his arms around her just as tight, holding her as close as he can.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Tired,” he says honestly.

“We’ll get you into bed soon.”

They both know he’s more than physically tired. He’s emotionally drained, but all he can do for his physical and mental exhaustion is sleep and hope he doesn’t have nightmares.

“Let me get your hair, baby.”

He nods and they pull apart. Oliver sits on the bench in the corner of their shower. Felicity grabs the shampoo and pours a small amount in her hand. She rubs it through his hair, massaging his scalp while she does. He loves it when she does this. There’s something about her fingers running through his hair that feels so good. It’s always so relaxing and comforting.

He almost whines when Felicity pulls back, but he stands and quickly rinses off his hair.

“Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll finish up,” she says.

“Okay.” He leans in to peck her lips.

Oliver leaves the shower and dries off. He changes into pajamas, long sleeves, and long pants. He’s feeling vulnerable and wants to be covered. As he climbs into bed, he pulls out his journal. He doesn’t write in it as often as he used to, but right now seems like a good time to do so.

Oliver writes and writes while he waits for Felicity. Each word that leaves his pen helps him feel a little lighter. It’s not a fix, but maybe he’ll be able to sleep tonight.

“I haven’t seen that in a while,” Felicity says, entering their room.

“Yeah,” he says, finishing up the last sentence. “I needed it tonight.”

“Understandable.”

His journal helps at least a little, but there’s still a heaviness to his chest. Oliver’s chest aches with sadness and hurt. The words Earth 2 Felicity said keep playing back in his head like a broken record. He tries to drown it out with his Felicity’s words, but it’s difficult.

Felicity climbs into bed after putting on pajamas. She pulls him close, letting him rest his head on her chest. Her fingers run through his now dry hair; she scratches her nails across his scalp just the way he likes.

“She’s still in my head,” he whispers.

“Nothing she said was true,” Felicity says. “Nothing. I love you more than anything and you are more than deserving of that love.”

He closes his eyes and focuses on every single word that falls from her lips. He revels in the warmth of her body against his and the gentleness of her fingers through his hair.

“You are home. You are safe. You are loved. You are wanted.”

Fresh tears burn in his eyes. _Dammit_. He’s so tired of crying.

“Believe me, you are so wanted.” Felicity’s voice cracks. “I was so scared I lost you today.” Her hand slips down to his shoulder and she squeezes him tight. “I thought you were… I thought…”

“I’m here. I’m... sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Her tears land in his hair.

He leans his head up and meets her lips for a needy kiss. She presses back against him hard. Neither of them can seem to get enough. He needs her more than anything and she needs him. He tangles his fingers in her wet hair and she pushes him back into the bed. They kiss until they’re desperately trying to catch their breath.

Felicity rests her forehead against his. Tears still roll down her cheeks, a few drip down onto his own cheeks, mingling with his salty tears.

“I swear I will never leave you,” she whispers, “But dammit, you better not leave me either.”

He holds her close. “I promise as long as I have a say in it, I will always come back to you.”

She moves slightly, so she’s resting her head against his chest. Her entire body is pressed against his. He closes his eyes and sighs. It’s like her body his a shield, protecting him from the monsters out in the world. She tries. She really tries to help him battle the demons on the inside and he does the same for her. But it’s more complicated than that.

He appreciates her efforts more than she will ever know, though. Felicity is his soulmate, his heart, and the person who helps him find the light. If it wasn’t for her, he doesn’t know if he would still be standing.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into her hair.

“Shh.” She nuzzles into him. “You never have to thank me.”

The two of them can survive anything. They can survive this battle against the Master. As long as they’re together.


	14. The Will to Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter written by Kathi (smkkbert) and edited by Ilse

Grabbing the pot holder, Oliver shoots a look over to the dining table. Felicity and William are setting the table, chatting about some project at William’s school that Felicity is helping him with.

The sight warms his heart like it always does. Seeing how close his wife and his son have grown always does that to him. Knowing that their bond is getting deeper despite the mistakes Oliver has made in the past and the partly terrible circumstances that have brought them here, amazes him.  He is sure that it is Felicity who is responsible for that with the almost magic way she makes everyone love her so easily.

Smiling, Oliver turns off the oven and takes the casserole dish out. He walks over to the dining table and puts it on the pot underlay and takes seat on the free chair. Meanwhile, Felicity and William are leaning forward to take a critical look at the food inside.

“That looks-“

“Healthy,” Felicity finishes William’s sentence quickly. “It looks healthy.”

Someone else could mistake this as a compliment. Oliver knows it’s just Felicity’s polite way of expressing doubts.

“It’s a pasta bake with champignons and spinach.”

“Ah,” is the only answer he gets from Felicity. 

She shoots William a look that Oliver knows is supposed to say he should leave some appetite for dessert. He knows Felicity always keeps some ice cream in the freezer.

“Don’t worry,” he says and rolls his eyes slightly. “I used extra cheese. You two won’t even taste that it’s healthy.”

Neither Felicity nor William look exactly convinced, but they do start eating eventually. If Oliver interprets their faces correctly which he is sure he does, they even like the food. He tries his best to hide a triumphant grin about it though.

“So, what project were you two-“

When Oliver’s phone rings, he stops. He shoots a look back over his shoulder to the kitchen counter where he put his phone when he started cooking. They have a strict rule when it comes to phones at the dining table, so he quickly turns back and clears his throat.

“What project were you two talking about before?”

William shoots a brief look at Felicity before he replies. “Maybe you should take the call.”

“No, we are having lunch.” Oliver shakes his head. “I can still call back later.”

“William’s right, Hon,” Felicity says though. “Just take it. It could be important.”

Oliver sighs, but he knows Felicity is probably right. The city has been almost suspiciously quiet these last days. As tempting as it is to believe that McKnight is just pulling back a little, Oliver knows better. He is planning the next brutal attack. Oliver knows it deep in his bones. The Master will come back soon, and the next attack will be even worse than the last.

The moment Oliver sees Quentin’s name on the display of his phone, his heart drops. He feels like Quentin has been the messenger of bad news a little too often lately. Oliver knows that he has trouble finding out what to do with his life now that Laurel is dead and Sara is off saving the world with her own team.

“Quentin?”

“I guess I am calling you away from lunch?”

“Yes.” Oliver sighs. “What’s happening?”

“I wish I knew.”

The answer makes Oliver frown. “What?”

“The citizens of Star City seem to have gone crazy,” Quentin explains. “There are attacks all over the city, but it’s not the usual criminals attacking and not even the Master’s minions. It’s just normal people attacking each other randomly. A man in Orchid Bay was just getting his post when his neighbor suddenly came out and ambushed him. Two women stopped in the middle of the highway and attacked each other. They didn’t even know each other. In one hour, more than a hundred incidences like this have happened, and it’s getting worse. The police don’t have control over the situation. The city needs you.”

Oliver sucks in a deep breath, shooting a look back over his shoulder. He would have liked to spend the day with his family, but he knows that this is urgent. If this is the Master’s doing, there is more to come. Oliver is sure of that.

“I will call in the team and meet them at the bunker,” Oliver states. “Do you know if Dinah is on duty?”

“The SCPD called in everyone available.”

“Okay, it’s good to have eyes and ears on scene.”

“Which is why I suggest you come to City Hall.”

“No,” Oliver replies firmly. “This is something the Green Arrow can take better care of than the Mayor.”

“Oliver, I am not sure this is the right way. The city needs someone to look to in this time of crisis, someone to lead and-”

“All the mayor can do is comfort them.” Oliver’s fingers tighten around the phone. “What the city really needs is for the Master to be stopped. I know it’s him.”

There is a long pause, and Oliver knows that Quentin considers continuing to convince him. He doesn’t agree with Oliver’s choice. He knows it’s better though. City Hall is in safe hands with Quentin. He can do more as the Green Arrow.

“Good luck, Oliver.”

“You, too.”

Oliver ends the call and pushes his phone into the pocket of his pants. Taking in a deep breath, he turns around to Felicity and William. Both of them are watching him intently. He can see in their faces that they know there is bad news.

“Felicity, we have to go to the bunker,” he says. “Now.”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, the entire team except for Dinah is gathered on the platform in the middle of the bunker. Everyone stares at the monitors of Felicity’s computers, watching her while she is working through the most important information she gathered while everyone was changing into their leather gear.

Patience isn’t exactly Oliver’s virtue, never has been. If it had been up to him, they would have headed out the moment they had put on their masks.  John and Felicity talked him down, because the thought of going into the field blind, without knowing what to expect, was a mistake.Be that as it may, he can't say that it makes the waiting any easier.

“Are we sure this is the Master?” Rene asks eventually, breaking the silence. “There is no hint about it, is there?”

Oliver is just about to answer, when Felicity turns in her chair and gets up. She walks over to the bigger monitor at the other side of the platform, and everyone follows her. They know it’s usually the sign that Felicity has something to present to them.

“The first emergency call was received at eleven-thirteen. A man in Orchid Bay was just getting his post when his neighbor and friend suddenly attacked him. According to the victim, the attacker seemed to be completely out of himself. There had been no fight or anything leading up to it. The man just left his house and attacked his friend.”

Oliver nods briefly. Quentin had said the same to him when he called him.  The victim’s report only proved that the attack was random. With no prior motive or cause, it makes the situation all the more dangerous. These random attacks happening anywhere at anytime, make it hard to pinpoint where or when the next attack will occur. He guess, is that they will only escalate more quickly.

“In the last ninety minutes, there have been almost two hundred of these incidences. Some were smaller and could be solved without the police because civilians interfered. Some of the attackers had to be locked into closed rooms, and they are still trying to break out.”

“Sounds like they are infected with rabies,” Rene states.

John perks up his eyebrows. “Is that a possibility?”

“No.” Felicity shakes her head firmly. “According to the statement of that first victim, once a few neighbors helped to stop the attacker, though it took a while longer, he came back to himself. This can’t have a physical reason.”

Oliver frowns. If there were no physical reasons, it couldn’t be drugs either, he surmises. If drugs wasn’t responsible for this, though, what else was?

“There are currently three hot spots with more than fifty people attacking each other,” Felicity continues. “The police don’t have any control. They are demanding the support of police stations from surrounding cities. The Chief of Police will ask for help of the military if this doesn’t stop soon.”

Again, Oliver nods briefly. This doesn’t sound good, but it only reaffirms Oliver’s suspicion. A chaos like this sounds like the Master’s doing. They just need to find out why.

“Where is Dinah?” Curtis asks.

“She’s in the Glades where one of the mass brawls is taking place.”

“The randomness of this is suspicious,” John says. “Do we have any connections to the Master or any idea what has gotten into these people?”

“Not yet,” Felicity replied. “I suggest you split up and see what you can do at these hot spots. The police need help.”

“They won’t see it like that,” Rene points out. “We have to be careful if we go out there in the middle of the day.”

“Yes, we do,” Oliver agrees. “Felicity is right though. We need to try help them and secure the situation. Hunting down the Master as long as the city is still in chaos won’t help anything.”

“Okay, Oliver, you go to the Glades and contact Dinah,” Felicity suggests, calling up the map where she had marked down the location of the hot spots. “John, you go to the Warehouse District. Rene, Curtis, you take the North District.”

Oliver’s gaze lingers on John’s face for a moment, and he can see the hesitation in his friend’s eyes. Before he could say anything and before he could even figure out what to say, John nods his head in agreement. Oliver nods back and turns to Felicity.

“While we are out there it would help if you could try finding out what has gotten into these people,” Oliver tells her. “If this is really as random as it looks like, we need to know how the Master got them to attack each other, and we need links between these attacks and the Master. We-“

“Oliver?” Felicity interrupts him and perks up an eyebrow. “I have been working on this team for years. I know what’s needed.”

Oliver opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He presses his lips together without another word. The truth is that Oliver doesn’t know why he has told Felicity what she has to do.  He knows that she knows best, so maybe it is just because of the Master’s possible involvement.

From the corner of his eyes, Oliver can see John, Curtis, and Rene watching them. He quickly clears his throat.

“Of course you do. Sorry.” He leans forward and pecks her lips. “See you later.”

“Be careful.”

Oliver shot Felicity a brief smile and nods. “I will. Promise.”

 

* * *

 

From the rooftop of an apartment building, Oliver watches the scene that takes  place before him in the streets of the Glades. People are outright attacking each other. They are  punching, kicking, and even biting. Some of them are screaming terrible curse words at each other, while others are just using all their energy to physically maim one another. The chaos here right now, matches the chaos that spread here on the night of the Undertaking.

To say that the police is over challenged to regain control over the neighborhood is in understatement. Though a special unit of the police is on site trying to keep the rioters at a zoned part of the neighborhood, many of the people are also trying to fight the armed cops.

Oliver sees three rioters punching and kicking a uniformed cop that is already on the ground. He holds his hands over his head, trying to protect it. Without any hesitation, Oliver pulls one of his arrows from the quiver and shoots at one of the attackers. The arrow hits his leg and he goes down with a cry of pain. Immediately, the other two rioters let go of the policeman and go at each other instead.

While one of the policemen from the special forces hurries to pull the injured cop behind the water cannon, Oliver tries to look over the situation more thoroughly.  It's mayhem, as everyone fights one another, turning and attacking each other at any jostle or tussle.

He thinks about what he can do to help them, but there aren’t enough arrows in his quiver to take everyone down. Even if there were, he couldn’t just shoot everyone. Starling General certainly has a lot to do as it is already. He knows they need to find a solution though, because if the police receive help from the military, this will end in a bloodbath. And the Glades will be the first neighborhood to be taken down.

Taking a step back from the edge of the rooftop, Oliver takes another look at where the police are set up and conferring what to do. His eyes meet Dinah’s, and he watches her excuse herself for a moment. She walks around a corner into a dark alley, and Oliver jumps down the fire escape and onto the street.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

“I talked to one of the attackers,” Dinah explains with lowered voice and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “We needed to shoot at him. It was the only thing that snapped him out of whatever trance he was caught in. He was still quite aggressive, but he didn’t want to attack anyone anymore.”

“We can’t really shoot everyone, just because pain seems to help them snap out of their current mental state.”

“I agree. We need to find the source for this.”

“Felicity’s on it. If someone can find out what it is, it’s her,” Oliver states, having complete faith in Felicity’s abilities. “What did your talk with the attacker reveal?”

“It looks like he was hallucinating,” Dinah replies. “He was in his apartment, washing the dishes and listening to the radio, when a rage started building inside of him. He looked out of the window and saw an elderly couple taking a walk there. He just left his apartment and attacked them. He couldn’t even say why he was this angry. He just knows that it was like something had gotten into his head and-”

“Lieutenant Drake?”

Oliver grabs a grappling hook arrow from his quiver and shoots it high to the wall of the building he had taken up position on before. The rope pulls him upwards, so Oliver can disappear on the rooftop again. From up there, he watches the cop talking to Dinah.

Getting up on his feet and taking a couple of steps back where nobody can see him, Oliver touches the comm right over his heart.

“Overwatch?”

“Listening.”

“One of the attackers said he was suddenly carried away by rage that had no certain source and-“

“I read the statement,” Felicity interrupts him. “An office already wrote it down and put it to the server of the SCPD, so I had access to it.”

“Does that help trying to find the source of what has gotten into people?”

“I can’t say yet, but I am working on it. You’ll be the first to know if I found out anything.”

“Thanks.”

Oliver takes another look down at the small alley. Dinah and the cop have already joined the rest of the police team. The fights are beginning to get more brutal.  More and more people join in, while other rioters have already gone down, seemingly having lost consciousness.

“We’ve got a problem here.”

“Spartan?”

“The police are threatening me,” John explains with calm voice. “If the vigilantes don’t retreat, the police will turn their focus on us.”

“We could take them,” Rene says.

“We could, but that isn’t going to help anyone.” Oliver’s voice is firm. They don’t start a fight with the police, even if they wanted to start a fight with them. “A fight with us will only distract them. Maybe we can’t help, but we won’t make anything worse.”

“So, what’s the plan, Hoss?”

Oliver hesitates. He doesn’t feel like they can do much as it is right now. Like he and Dinah have agreed on, they can’t just shoot everyone. He might need more tranquilizer arrows though.

“Meet back at the bunker. We need a plan.”

 

* * *

 

“I have good news,” Felicity says the moment he steps into the bunker, not looking up from her monitors.

Everyone else is already gathered around her work station, so Oliver joins them, pulling down down his hood and taking off the mask.

“Shoot.”

“Thanks to the report of that attacker Dinah talked to and the results of his examination at Starling General, I was able to figure out what causes these people to act out. These people are not particularly hallucinating, at least not the way one might thing,” Felicity tells them, only shooting a look back over her shoulder briefly. “Rather, they are being mind-controlled.”

“Like telepathy?” Rene asked.

“Kind of yes,” Felicity replies, “just that it’s not magic that is doing this, at least not really. It’s manipulated soundwaves of radios.”

“That’s… not possible?” Curtis voice showed doubt.

“It shouldn’t be possible, but apparently it is,” Felicity replies. She stops typing for a moment to turn around and look at them. “Someone hacks into the radio tower and manipulates the signals. It causes the soundwaves of the radio to be manipulated in a way that affects the way they are being processed by the brain. Usually, the temporal lobe is responsible for the reception of sounds, but the soundwaves allow a direct contact to the frontal lobe. It’s where the impulse control, personality and social behavior of a person is located. It causes a swelling that changes their behavior towards other people and makes them violent towards each other.”

“This is crazy,” Rene says.

“It is,” Felicity agrees, nodding her head, “but there have been attempts to influence the behavior of people through soundwaves of the radio or computer viruses before. When I was still at MIT, there was a secret research team that tried to use faked children pornographic content to affect the behavior of the recipients. They thought it was a way to stop child sex trafficking.”

“If it was secret, why did you know about it?” Curtis asks.

Everyone looks at Curtis with perked up eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat.

“Because you are Felicity Smoak of course,” he answers his own question and gestures with his hand. “Let’s get on.”

Felicity turns back around to her computers and continues working. Her fingers race over the keyboard with rapid speed.

“Do we know who did this?” Oliver asks.

“If you mean if there is any proof that it is the one we know did it?” Felicity says. “The answer is no. At least I haven’t found anything yet. I am focusing on finding out how to stop these manipulated soundwaves.”

“Any success so far?”

“No, the coding is very subtle and yet all over the radio towers’ functions. It will take a while to eliminate the parts that are responsible for this chaos.”

“Don’t they have a backup? Usually, towers like that-“

“It was deleted,” Felicity interrupts Curtis quickly. “The Master was very thorough.”

There is a long pause. Silence fills the bunker except for a quiet noise that makes Oliver frown and look around carefully. As long as they don’t know what the Master is planning and why he is doing this, Oliver knows they have to be particularly careful. Who knows what he’s planning next?

“So, encrypting the mechanism is the only way all of this will stop?” John asks.

“It will make sure that nobody new is being affected,” Felicity replies, “and it will make the swelling go away with time, but it could take hours.”

“Is there a way to speed things up?” Curtis asks.

“Dinah says they shot at one person, and he snapped out of his trance,” Oliver says, recalling what she told him. “He was still aggressive, but he didn’t continue to blindly attack anyone.”

“The swelling, at least of the people that have been taken to Starling General so far, wasn’t that bad. Hence, they didn’t need a severe blood loss to ease the swelling,” Felicity adds. “It might be enough if they are distracted by something that anchors them to reality. If they realize that their impulse control and other functions of their brains are affected, it might help them to get some control back, but that’s just my unprofessional opinion.”

“Do you think-“

“I need to work here,” Felicity hisses. “If anyone can encrypt this mechanism, it’s me.”

While everyone else is looking at each other, Oliver frowns at Felicity. She doesn’t let herself be bothered anymore. She just continues working.

“We should call Quentin and tell him that he should ask people to switch off their radios,” Rene suggests.

“And call Dinah to update her,” Curtis adds.

“Since we can’t help making this stop for now, I suggest that we check where there are urgent cases that the police can’t go to because of no-go areas and the overload of attacks. We-“

“Felicity, do you have the radio switched on?”

While John, Curtis and Rene have been talking about their next steps, Oliver has kept his eyes glued on Felicity. It isn’t like her to hiss at a team member for asking her a question, as long as the question doesn’t doubt her abilities. Something else has to be bothering her, and now that he has been able to locate the little noise he hears from her computers, a terrible suspicion dawns him.

“Felicity,” he says more loudly when Felicity doesn’t answer and just continues typing stoically. “Are you listening to the radio?”

“I am working,” she just growls in response.

Oliver crosses the distance towards her, stepping right next to Felicity. She doesn’t even glance in his direction. Instead, she stays focused on the monitor. In a small window, he sees the broadcast of a radio channel. Listening to the radio has now put herself in danger of suffering from the same effects that has already turned half the city into uncontrollable and violent rioters.

“Felicity, switch it off,” he demands. “Now.”

Felicity just continues working, not letting Oliver disturb her. He feels anger pooling in the pit of his stomach. It mingles with the worry in his chest and causes every muscle inside of him to tense.

“Felicity,” he says her name once more, trying to keep his cool, but the mixture of emotions makes it hard not to freak out. “I am not saying it again. Switch this off now.”

Still, Felicity doesn’t react or even look at Oliver. He feels his anger increasing because she doesn’t seem to take him seriously. She completely ignores his worry which only increases his anger. They need to discuss what the hell she is thinks she is doing. Unable to just watch her ignoring him any longer, he grips some cables at the back of the computer and rips them out.

“Hey!” Felicity shouts angrily when the monitor goes black and stands up abruptly from her chair. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Oliver shouts back. “What the hell do you think you are doing listening to something that you know causes people’s brains to swell?”

“It’s just part of their brain that is swelling, and I have it under control.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Then why are you yelling at me? Those soundwaves already have an effect on you.”

“ No, I am yelling at you because you won't let me work and you just ripped the cords out of my computer. ”

By now, Oliver and Felicity are standing so close that their chests are touching with every intake of breath, and they are both breathing heavily from anger. Despite the high heels of her ankle boots, she is significantly smaller than him. That doesn’t mean that Felicity lets herself be intimidated by Oliver. She just stares back angrily.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room, that is only interrupted when John clears his throat.

“We will update the others and check where we can help,” John says quietly. “We’ll let you two have the room.”

From the corner of his eyes, Oliver can see him nodding towards the exit. Taking their equipment, the three men head to the elevators. They step into it without saying a word and only speak when the doors start closing. Oliver can still hear them though.

“I bet fifty bucks that someone’s head will roll now,” Curtis whispers.

“Yeah, and Felicity’s already so small,” Rene agrees.

“If someone’s head is rolling,” John adds, “I doubt it will be Felicity’s.”

With that, the doors of the elevators close. Oliver and Felicity are left alone in the bunker, standing in front of the black monitors and staring at each other angrily.

Usually, a situation like this ends either with a heated fight or with steamy sex, and, looking at his wife’s slightly opened lips and her red cheeks, Oliver can’t say which one this will lead to.

 

* * *

 

He is in no hurry to walk up the stairs of the apartment house. He knows he has all the time in the world. The sirens of the police cars outside assure him of that. The chaos he has created is still in full swing.

“Ah, here it is.”

He whispers the words to himself quietly when he reaches the topmost floor. Stepping in front of the door to apartment 402, he reads the name on the doorbell nameplate.  _ McFarland  _ is engraved in the small silver plate with neat writing.

“Perfect.”

Smiling contently, he pulls his leather gloves out of the pocket of his expensive coat. He puts them on and moves his fingers a little to make sure he has full flexibility. Only then, he lifts his hand and knocks at the door quietly.

“Coming.”

The joyful voice on the other side of the door makes him smile. He folds his hands in front of his lower stomach and waits patiently for the door to be opened. Quick steps tell him that he doesn’t have to wait long.

Indeed, it only takes a couple of seconds for the door to be opened. A girl at the age of seven years stands in the open door and looks at him with questioning eyes. She smiles at him shyly, reservation on her face.

“Hello, Callie.”

The girl looks back at him with surprise, but a small smile plays around her lips. It exposes her missing front tooth.

“Why do you know my name?”

“Oh, I know a lot about you, Callie.”

The girl crosses her arms in front of her chest and perks up her eyebrows. “Like what?”

He chuckles and goes down on his knees in front of the girl. She is feisty, but doesn’t mind. He likes people who don’t just buy everything they are presented with, though he thinks it’s more interesting with intelligent people. People with limited intelligence, ordinary people, should just keep their little mouths shut and know their place in the world.

“I know that you are very smart,” he whispers to her, “and I know that your teacher recommended a new school for you to your parents, but they refuse to let you go.”

“It’s too expensive,” Callie tells him, frowning, “and I didn’t want to leave mommy and daddy anyway. I like it here, and I have good friends at school.”

“Poor child,” he whispers and strokes his hand over the girl’s brown hair gently. “So smart and yet so betrayed by the people who should watch over you.”

Looking at Callie with almost warm eyes, he straightens back up.

“Are your parents friends with anyone living in this house?”

Callie shrugs her shoulders. “With Ms. Parrish downstairs. She’s-“

“So run downstairs and tell Ms. Parrish to call the police.”

“Why?”

He smiles. “Because I will kill mommy and daddy now.”

The last touches of a smile on her face disappear. She looks at him with shock, unsure what to think about his words. He continues looking at Callie, but she doesn’t move.

“Run,” he tells her intently. “Now.”

Callie presses her back to the wall as she moved past him, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. As soon as she is out of his reach, she takes her eyes off him and starts running downstairs.

Darren McKnight straightens his shoulders and steps into the small apartment. He can hear voices from the TV, but he takes the opposite direction and heads into the kitchen. He has researched the blueprints of the apartment building, so he knows where all the rooms are located. He likes to be prepared. Smart people know that preparation is always the most important thing in a fight.

He opens some drawers of the kitchen counters before he finds the knife block. He pulls out the chef’s knife and takes a look at the blade. It looks like it has recently been sharpened, so it is perfect for his purpose.

With the knife in his hand, he walks toward the living room. It’s indeed where the voices are coming from. Stepping into the room, he sees that Adrian and Susanna Fuller are sitting on the couch together, watching TV. Their backs are turned towards him, so they don’t see him.

“Who’s there, Sweetie?” Mr. Fuller asks, without looking back around.

“Oh, it’s just me.”

Gasping for breath, the couple jumps up from the couch and turn around. They look at him with confusion and Adrian quickly pushes his wife behind him at the sight of the knife in their visitor’s hands.

“Please don’t play the hero,” Darren asks the man with a sigh. “You will only suffer more, and we both already know that you are not the hero. You are the villain here.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Darren replies. “The question is who are you?”

“Where the hell is our daughter?”

Darren chuckles almost amusedly. “Oh, now you want to know about your daughter? Really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Adrian asks and frowns angrily. “Where the hell is our daughter?”

“Don’t worry,” Darren says with low voice. “She is downstairs, calling the police. We don’t want to lose any time, so she gets to a family that can meet the requirements for a smart girl like her.”

“We are giving her everything we can,” Susanna cries, holding onto the back of her husband’s shirt tightly. “Please! We are really trying. We-“

“We are really trying,” Darren mimics her crying and chuckles dryly. “Really? So, you want to tell me that buying a new car instead of sending your daughter, the daughter with an IQ of 143, to a school that can foster her gift is you trying? Really?”

“We asked her! She doesn’t want to go!” Susanna cries out.

Adrian ignores his wife and stares at Darren angrily. “How do you know all of that?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is what we will do about it.”

“And that is?”

“I will kill you.”

Adrian Fuller grabs the poker from the fireplace and approaches Darren McKnight with a guttural scream. Amusement raises in Darren’s chest. That someone as ordinary as Adrian Fuller honestly believes he can fight someone as extraordinary as him really amuses him.

He lets him try for a while, knowing he has time. He just avoids getting hit with the poker, using the knife in his hands to fight the hits off. Soon, he just feels bored by it though. He holds onto the poker when his opponent tries to hit him with it the next time. Pulling at the poker in a jerky movement, he pulls Adrian Fuller towards him and with an even movement of his hand slits the man’s throat.

“Adrian!”

Mrs. Fuller’s scream almost hurt in his eyes, but Darren McKnight doesn’t mind. For a moment, he watches his victim as he goes down on his knees and finally loses all tension in his muscles. Meanwhile, his blood continues soaking the white carpet.

“And now you.”

“No, no! Please! Don’t! No, I’ll do everything! Everything! I promise!”

Darren McKnight chuckles at how scared Susanna Fuller is. She is crouched into a corner of the living room, holding her hands up like she thinks it will stop him.

“You will really do everything?” he asks her with soft voice. “Everything to give Callie the life she needs and deserves?”

“Yes,” she promises hurriedly and nods her head. “Yes, everything. I promise.”

He sighs and nods his head slowly. “Too bad I can’t believe you.”

He lifts his knee, ramming it into Susanna Fuller’s stomach. She gasps for breath, grabbing her stomach and holding onto it. He uses the moment to slit her throat just like he did with her husband. Her eyes widen in shock and only two heartbeats later all life leaves her eyes.

Releasing a content sigh, he drops the knife to the floor carelessly. He takes a few steps back then because he doesn’t want the blood to spill on his shoes. They have been handmade in Italy, and they are just too expensive to let them be ruined by blood.

Humming a melody that was on his mind for some reason, he pulls out the little book and the pen from the pocket of his coat and opens it. Smiling, he crosses the names of Family Fuller off his list.

“On to the next one!”

 

* * *

 

Felicity has her hands tightened to fists. Her fingernails are digging into the palms of her hands and ever her wedding band feels like it is cutting into her skin slightly. She tries to focus on the slightly unpleasant feeling because if she doesn’t focus on that, she will focus on her anger. There is already enough anger in the room.

Anger is written all over their faces, and is visible in their body posture. It fills the room and embraces them, making it impossible to escape.

Despite the anger in the air, it isn’t the only emotion determining the atmosphere. Instead, it is mingling with sexual attraction. The contrasting emotions create the kind of tension that makes it hard for Felicity to decide if she should push Oliver away from her and yell at him or if he would rather pull her close and cover his lips with hers.

Oliver is the one who breaks eye contact first. For just a split second, he lowers his eyes to her slightly opened mouth. Her tongue darts out to wet her dry lips, and she watches Oliver taking in a deep breath at the sight.

Slowly, he lifts his gaze until his eyes are meeting hers again. Felicity doesn’t miss that his pupils are blown wide and his iris is slightly darkened. She has noticed long ago that both of those happen to Oliver when he is aroused.

Felicity takes in a slow but deep breath and digs her fingernails even deeper into the palms of her hands. She is angry with Oliver. He has tried to order her around like a damn child, and he has just ripped out the cables of her computer. She had already been working on encrypting that code that was responsible for half of the city going crazy right now, so he might have even destroyed the part of the work she already did.

She has every reason to be angry with him, and they should talk this out right now. Otherwise, this problem would come up again and again. The have to talk about this. Now.

Felicity doesn’t know who moves first. They probably move at the same time. Oliver’s arms wrap around Felicity’s waist tightly, and she straightens up onto the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and stroke her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips meet in a hungry kiss.

Whatever reasons there were to not kiss her husband until she loses herself in him completely are forgotten the second their tongues stroke together. The anger is still there, but the sexual attraction is stronger. It takes the anger and turns it into a burning desire that Felicity can literally feel in the tingling of her skin.

She presses her body against his even more, so she can feel his defined muscles even through the leather jacket. Her arms tighten around his neck, giving her the leverage to wrap a leg around his hips and rub herself against him. Even through the thick leather pants, she can feel Oliver’s cock twitch in his pants.

“Felicity.”

His mouth whispers her name against her lips hoarsely. His lips still move against hers when he speaks, and covers them in another searing kiss, the moment the last syllable falls.

The desire in Felicity only grows more. Heat pools between her legs, and she knows it won’t be long before a rhythmic throbbing will tell her that she can’t wait to feel Oliver inside of her. She always has this intense reaction to Oliver, and she hopes it will never change.

Oliver’s hands drift down her body until they rest flat against her butt. He squeezes gently, pulling her hips close to his. With a circling movement, he rubs his hardening cock against her center. Felicity groans against his lips and tightens her leg around his hips, unwilling and unable to let go.

When Oliver starts walking her backwards, she almost screeches since she has no way to keep her balance with only one foot on the floor. Oliver effortlessly lifts her completely into his arms. His strong arms keep her safe against him as he crosses the distance to her desk. He sets her down there, losing no time to push her skirt further up her legs, so he can rub his hips against hers more easily.

All she can think and perceive at the moment is him and her reaction to him. His low moans whenever she deepens the kiss is the only thing she can hear. She can feel the low rumble in his chest that echoes the sound of his moans against her stomach. The smell of his skin and the thin layer of sweat on his neck fills her nose.

He is everywhere – pressed against her, wrapped around her, inside of her – and it is almost overwhelming.

The need for oxygen soon grows heavier, and Felicity drops her head back with a long moan. Oliver falters only briefly. A moment later, he kisses a path down from the corner of her lips over her jaw to her neck. His tongue strokes against her sensitive skin in the same slow rhythm as his hips move against hers. By now, her hot channel was clenching down on emptiness almost painfully, the desire to feel him filling her growing so much she can barely bear it.

Oliver’s fingers start unbuttoning the blouse she is wearing. His fingers move quickly down along the button border. As soon as he reaches the downmost button, he pulls the fabric out of the hem of her skirt and pushes it down her shoulders.

“We can’t do this.”

Felicity doesn’t know why she is says it, or maybe she does. She just doesn’t want to. The words have nonetheless already fallen from her lips, and her head tells her that she’s right, and they need to stop now. Her hands can’t yet follow through. Her fingers tighten around some strands of his hair and pull his head closer to her collar bone where Oliver is currently nibbling at.

The city is on fire. It’s only a metaphor of course, but Felicity knows it can change any second. There is no time to have hot, angry sex right now. They have a mission to focus on.

Her thoughts get lost as Oliver kisses his way back up her neck again. His lips stay at her pulse point for a moment, sucking at it and probably leaving a nice, little bruise to take with her for a couple of days. Felicity can’t get herself to mind though.

When Oliver’s face is on the same level as hers again, she leans forward and captures his lips with hers. She strokes her tongue back into his mouth, humming at the delicious taste of his skin.

“I don’t want to stop.”

The low growl that leaves Oliver’s lips vibrates through his chests and echoes in Felicity’s body. His arms tighten around her, and he presses himself even closer to her.

Felicity needs a moment to remember why they are supposed to stop.  

“We have to.”

“I know.”

They both know now is not the time, but neither of them has the strength to stop. Their bodies just continue moving. Their kiss only grows more heated, not even breaking when they speak.

“We really gotta stop now.” Felicity groans against Oliver’s lips, and her fingers tighten in his hair. “We can continue when things have calmed down.”

“Okay.”

Oliver hums against her lips in agreement, but he doesn’t exactly do anything to stop. Felicity moves closer to the edge of the desk, which only brings her closer to Oliver. She pushes herself further forward until she can stand up, her hands falling to his shoulders. Oliver’s hands drift from the small of her back to her hips at the same time.

The continue kissing for only a moment more, until they both push each other away at the same time. Their lips break apart, and they open their eyes. Desire is still written all over Oliver’s face. His eyes are blown wide and his lips are slightly swollen from kissing. Felicity bites down on her bottom lip, feeling a new wave of desire threatening to drown her. If the way Oliver’s eyes glanced down at her lips once more is any indication, it is the same for her.

“I will-“

“I should-“

They both take a step away from each other at the same time. Their hands fall off each other’s body, their eyes flitting away from each other’s glances.

Felicity grabs her blouse and puts it back on, closing some of the buttons. She leaves the platform, watching from the corner of her eyes how Oliver walks to the railing at the other side. His fingers grab onto it tightly, and he lets his head hang between his shoulders, taking some deep breaths to gather himself.

Felicity’s hands are shaking slightly when she starts working on getting her computer to get going again. She is still full of desire, her core aching to have him inside of her. She knows if something will distract her from the unreleased sexual need inside of her, it’s her computers.

Silence settles in the bunker. Felicity can feel Oliver’s eyes on her as he leans back against the railing and watches her. She keeps her gaze focused on the back of her computers, connecting the needed devices with the cables Oliver ripped out.

She recalls the scene before, when he demanded that she stop and made her stop when she wouldn’t listen to him. He had been angry, and so had she. She still is if she thinks about it clearly now.

“Why don’t you trust my abilities?”

Her question is just a whisper. In the quiet room that is still filled with tension, it sounds as loud as a shout.

“I do trust your abilities, Felicity.”

Felicity frowns and puts the last cables back into place before she returns to the platform. She doesn’t look at Oliver.  She deliberately avoids his gaze and waits as she sits back at her desk and switches the computers back on.

“It doesn’t feel like that.”

“In that case, I am sorry.”

Oliver’s answer comes so abruptly that Felicity shoots a quick look back over her shoulder. He looks honest about his apology and regretful for what he did. Felicity knows she can continue to be angry with him, but no good will come from holding a grudge. Instead, she slightly nods her head.

She turns back to her computers and restarts the programs she needs to get back to work. If she has learned one thing in the past years, it is that grudges have gotten her nowhere. Marriage means forgiving; especially, when your spouse doesn’t mean to hurt you in the first place.

“You just can’t get yourself into danger like that.”

Felicity’s fingers falter briefly, but she chooses not to say anything for now. She just continues working on recalling the results of her last hacks; specifically, the one of the radio tower. She will continue working on encrypting this code, whether Oliver wants her to or not. Letting a radio channel run while she is working at it will only assure that she will be faster, because she can try to note the changes in the soundwaves as she changes the codes.

“Felicity, I just want you to be safe.”

“I am pretty sure going out into the streets, fighting armed criminals and rioting citizens is much more dangerous than listening to the radio.”

“Not, if the radio causes swelling in your brain.”

“Nobody died of it, Oliver,” Felicity says. “They freak out for a while, and everything is going back to normal. You can’t really say the same applies when you get hurt in the field.”

For the break of a second, Felicity’s eyes drift to Laurel’s suit in the glass box. It will forever be a reminder of what prizes you might have to pay for while trying to save the city. As much as Felicity avoids the thought, it is still there with her.

“This is a different kind of danger,” Oliver says eventually, “one that I cannot estimate.”

“But I can,” Felicity says firmly, turning around in her chair to look at him. “I am the expert in this area, so I can estimate the risk I am putting myself into. You just have to trust that.”

“I-“ Oliver tears at his hair. “I am worried about you, okay? This is the Master’s doing, and I am sure there is a greater plan behind this. Nothing he does is random. So, what if you are his greater plan this time? He feels like I ripped his family away from him, so he wants to rip mine away from me. What if this is his way of getting to you?”

Felicity cocks her head and looks at Oliver sadly. She can see the worry, almost panic, on his face. The bare thought of losing her kills a little bit of the light that shines deep in his heart. The thought makes Felicity’s heart ache for him.

“Oliver, I am right here,” she tells him and gets up to walk towards him. “I am not going anywhere.”

She takes his hand and puts it to her heart. His fingers spread against the soft fabric of her blouse, and his eyes watch their linked fingers on the top of his chest. When he locks eyes with her again, there is a little bit more calmness in them.

“You have to focus on this, just like, every time you go out into the field, I focus on this,” she tells him and lifts her free hand to his heart. “We are both here, and we are both alive. We need to make the best we can of every moment, and we can’t live afraid of the present. We have to-“

When her computers start beeping loudly, the sound echoing through the lair, Felicity turns her head and frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a different alarm.”

She squeezes Oliver’s hand briefly and shoots him a look to let him know that they will continue this conversation. Just not now.

Felicity quickly walks back to her desk. Oliver follows her, standing right behind her chair and looking at the monitors over her shoulder.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

“After what happened Christmas Day, I set a special alarm in case anything happens that sounds like it has connections to the Master,” Felicity tells him. “I have a close eye on the foster system in and around the city. In the last forty minutes, there have been three attacks on families who are registered in the foster system as foster parents, either present or past.”

Oliver frowns. “Can’t the attacks be a result of the riots? I mean I know the Master is behind this too, but-“

“The computer probably saw it the same way at first,” Felicity says, “which is why I didn’t get an alarm immediately. One of the emergency calls indeed sounds like a result of the riots, but they other two aren’t. Both families were attacked by a single man. In the second case, the foster child called the police. In the first case, the attacker himself did, saying he just killed two people. The voice matches Darren McKnight’s according to the computer analysis.”

“Do we know anything more about the victims?”

“One second,” Felicity says and quickly hits a few more keys on her keyboard before she nods. “I guess the Master is taking revenge on other foster families who failed their tasks.”

“Which means?”

“The Fullers, the first family, was under special observation by the child protective service because their foster daughter, Callie, was found to be highly talented, and the responsible social worker had doubts that the Fullers could handle that appropriately.”

“So, he sees himself in Callie.”

“Exactly,” Felicity agrees. “The second family, Eric and Rosalie Aniston, had a foster child until three weeks ago. They needed to end the fosterage because the boy, Kyle, started hurting their biological daughter.”

“Which again mirrors his experience that foster parents care more for their biological kids than their foster children.”

“Exactly.” Felicity nods her head. “You should go and check those cases out, especially because the police haven’t arrived yet. They are still overworked with the rioters. If there is a way to stop the Master, it’s by following his traces. I will call Curtis back here, so he can keep an eye on that. In the meantime, I will find out how to undo this code.”

She can feel Oliver falter, but he eventually nods his head. He kisses the top of her head and squeezes her shoulder.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “Please be careful.”

“You too.”

Felicity looks back at him and their eyes lock for a short moment. Both of them nod, promising not to take any unnecessary risks to do this. They will go home together tonight.

With that promise in their heads and hearts, Oliver leaves the bunker and Felicity turns back to the computer.

 

* * *

 

As quietly as possible Oliver lowers himself into the Fuller’s apartment. He takes a brief look around before he starts walking. The apartment looks neat like there hasn’t been a  huge fight.

The impression changes when he steps into the living room. Adrian and Susanna Fuller’s dead bodies lie on the carpet. Susanna Fuller’s eyes are ripped open, staring at him with the shock still in her eyes. Blood has soaked the white carpet. Some sprinkles have met the light walls and have run down the wallpaper.

Oliver takes a step closer to take a closer look. He can almost picture the scene. Adrian Fuller has probably tried to protect his wife. The Master just slit his throat and continued with Susanna Fuller though. They didn’t stand a chance.

He senses a movement behind him and turns around, an arrow already aiming at the person in front of him. As soon as he realizes that it’s a little girl, just a few years younger than William, he quickly lowers his bow and lifts a soothing hand. The girl looks at him in shock.

“You are Callie, right?”

Callie nods, tears in her eyes. “You are the Green Arrow.”

“Yes.”

Oliver shoots a look back over his shoulder at the Fullers. He walks over to Callie then, blocking her view with his body. He hopes she hasn’t seen the entire cruelty of this yet. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he gently pushes her towards the hallway. She shouldn’t be here. She is just a kid.

He closes the door behind him and goes down on his knees, so his face is at the same level as Callie’s. He can see the fear in her eyes. It reminds him of the expression in William’s eyes after the explosion on Lian Yu, the fear of realizing that his mother might be dead.

“I know you are scared,” he whispers to her, “but I could use your help here, so I can help find the person who did this to your foster parents. Do you think you can do that?”

Callie nods, taking in a sniffling breath. “Y-yes.”

“Okay,” Oliver says calmly. “The man who did this, is he still here?”

“No.” Callie shakes her head. “No, I saw him leave. I was downstairs in the hallway. I was supposed to call the police, but Ms. Parrish wasn’t there. He gave me his phone and walked away.”

“Do you still have the phone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it please?”

Callie pulls the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and hands it to him. It’s a prepaid phone, so it won’t be of much use.

“Do you mind if I take it with me?”

“No. If it helps, you can take it.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at her comfortingly. “I am sorry this has happened to you.”

Callie nods and lowers her eyes for a moment. When she lifts her gaze again, there is an insecurity in them. She looks at Oliver intently, not saying a word. Several seconds pass.

“Are they dead?”

Oliver nods his head. “Yes, I assume so. I’m sorry.”

“Did this happen because of me?”

“No,” Oliver replies without pause. He knows what it feels like to live with the guilt of thinking you are to blame for your parents’ death. If he can protect Callie from that, he will. “No, this is not your fault, and you can’t ever believe that. No matter what the man told you, it’s not your fault. It is his.”

He can hear the sirens of the police coming closer, and he knows he has to leave. He doesn’t want to go, but he knows he has no chance.

“You should go before the police come,” Callie whispers.

Oliver nods and squeezes the girl’s shoulder. “I will make sure you will get into another nice family, okay?”

“You can do that?”

“Maybe I can’t,” Oliver whispers, “but I know someone who will have an eye on that and who will wrangle something to make it work.”

The smallest of a smile ghosts over Callie’s face. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. None of this should have happened to you in the first place.”

He straightens up and pulls Callie into a short hug, just because he needs it. When he steps back, he squeezes her shoulder one last time.

By the time Oliver reaches the rooftop, the police car stops in front of the doors to the apartment building. Two officers, who seem barely old enough to be on duty, get out and enter the building. Oliver bites his tongue. He had hoped for more experienced cops to take care of this, especially for Callie.

Touching his chest to talk over the comms, he takes a couple of steps back from the edge of the rooftop.

“Overwatch, I-“

“Nah, only Mister Terrific here.”

Oliver scrunches up his nose. He has already forgotten that Felicity wanted to call in Curtis to help, so she can focus on coding. She is probably working on it again already.

“How’s Felicity doing?”

He trusts her. He trusts her ability. He just knows that she is just as stubborn and just as driven as he is. Hence, he knows how quickly she can lose herself in the mission and forget the risk she is putting herself in. It has happened to him once or twice before, too.

“She is focused,” Curtis replies after a short pause. “Don’t worry. I tell her to take a pause regularly. I am here in case anything happens and I’ll be sure to inform you right away.”

“Okay, great.” Oliver feels a little bit of relief. “Thanks.”

“Now, I checked the families the Master has attacked so far,” Curtis tells him. “Unfortunately, a third has to be added to the list. Roger and Louise Nixon have been attacked and killed in their home. They ended their last fosterage because they were expecting their own first baby.”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall forward. The Master was leaving a pile of bodies in his wake. Again.

“The good thing is that this third killing hinted me at a possible list he might be working through.”

“You know where he will go next?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Tell me.”

“The thing is that you won’t make it in time to stop him. With luck, you will run into him, but I think it’s safer if you go to the family after that one on the list.”

Oliver’s stomach drops. He knows Curtis has a point. The Master is several steps ahead of them. If he just follows his traces, he will never catch him. They need to get ahead of him. Still, the thought of willingly choosing to let the people that are next on the list die without even trying to help them goes against everything Oliver believes in.

“Is anyone else on the team close to the next people on the list?”

“Wild Dog is two streets away.”

“Tell him to go there and check. He shall try saving the family, but he cannot pick a fight with the Master.”

“I’ll tell him,” Curtis says.

It still doesn’t feel right to Oliver, but he knows it’s all he can do right now.

“Give me the next address.”

 

* * *

 

“Bad news,” Rene says over the comms just when Oliver turns into the street. “The family Mister Terrific told me to check on is dead.”

“Unfortunately, that is what we already expected,” Curtis says. “I’ll tell the police. Just get out of there.”

“Wait,” Oliver says and stops the motorcycle before the house Curtis has sent him too. “Do they have a foster child there?”

“No,” Curtis replies. “It was taken away from them because the teachers at her school said she wasn’t able to go to school regularly.”

Why are there so many failing foster parents? Oliver knows he is far from perfect as a dad, but he tries. He tries his best. It means sending William to school every morning and making sure he gets through the day unharmed.

“Okay. Wild Dog, get out of there. Mister Terrific, I will enter the house now.”

“Roger.”

There is not a single soul on the street. It is still the middle of the day, but Oliver knows that everyone is locking themselves in to avoid the riots. They are still going if the sirens he can hear in the distance are any indication.

Oliver gets up from his motorcycle and walks over to the house. He doesn’t know if some nosy neighbors are watching him. Even if they are, he knows it doesn’t matter. The police will not have time to hunt him down right now.

Stepping in front of the door, he realizes that it’s left ajar. Tightening his hold on his bow, Oliver pushes the door open. He grabs an arrow from the quiver and aims before he steps into the house. He only needs to take three steps to see the dead bodies of the couple that is living there.

The Master is more than just a couple of steps ahead of them it seems.

“Come in, Oliver.”

Every muscle in Oliver’s body tenses at Darren McKnight’s voice. He is here, waiting for him.

Slowly, Oliver walks down the hallway until he reaches the living room. Darren McKnight is sitting in one of the armchairs, his legs crossed and his hands playing with a bloody knife. There is a wicked smile on his lips, though he looks completely calm.

“I was wondering when you would catch up,” he says. “I figured that all of this might be too high for you and decided to wait.”

Oliver had a perfect aim at his heart. It would be easy to just kill the Master now. But he doesn’t shoot. He won’t kill ever again, at least not if there is another way.

“What do you want?”

“The same I wanted last time,” McKnight replied, his grin growing wider. “Yours and your family’s destruction. Well, knowing that you know that I can destroy you and your family to be exact. At least for now I think that is more important. I want you to know what power I have over your life. I thought we could use the time to spend some time as brothers. A scavenger hunt certainly is something brothers at our age would do together for fun, right?”

Oliver doesn’t reply. It still unsettles him whenever Darren McKnight calls him his brother. They are not family, no matter what he says.

“Now you caught me and the game is over. Congratulations, Oliver, only eight people died,” he continues. Of course, I have to play a little dumb to give you a chance,” he continues. “It’s good you have smart people on your team. Playing against Curtis Holt and our lovely Felicity is just so much more fun.”

Oliver’s fingers almost twitch at the sound of Felicity’s name falling from McKnight’s lips. The bare mention of her unsettles him. Is Felicity the bigger target here after all?

“Speaking of Felicity, how is marriage going for the two of you?” he asks. “Isn’t she bored with your limited intelligence yet? You have to look like a monkey next to someone of her-”

Oliver lets go of the arrow. He has aimed for McKnight’s shoulder, but the arrow misses its target and hits the wall behind him. Oliver wants to grab another arrow, but suddenly feels dizzy. It takes him several tries before he finally grabs one and it’s even harder to take an aim this time as the floor beneath him seems to be shaking slightly.

Only when McKnight starts laughing, Oliver realizes that he must be playing with him. He tries to look at him, but the dizziness makes his stomach twist badly. He can barely stand straight.

“Your senses seem to fool you.”

Oliver squeezes his eyes shut, trying to take deep breaths.

He remembers their meeting at Christmas Day and the arrows he has shot at the Master when he has been running to go save Felicity and William from Adrian Chase’s counterpart from Earth Two. Since he has returned from the island, there haven’t been a lot of shots he has missed. Even when he has been on Vertigo, he has managed to hit his target. Maybe the Master messed with his senses back then already.

Oliver takes in another deep breath. He won’t let Darren McKnight get away from here today so easily. Who knows when he gets another chance at defeating him.

When Oliver opens his eyes, he is the only one left in the room though. Sirens outside prove that the police are coming, and he manages to quickly escape.

 

* * *

 

“Yes.”

To her own surprise, she pumps her fist up in the air as she says that. If she remembers correctly, she hasn’t done that in years.

“Did you write the right code?” Curtis asks.

“I think so. Yes.”

Felicity doesn’t look back at him. Instead, she’s already pushing the right keys to set up a connection to Oliver via the comms.

“Overwatch.”

“Yes. Hi.” Felicity falters briefly. “Did you find the Master?”

Only now she remembers that he has left the bunker to find the Master. She doesn’t know why she has forgotten. Usually, she doesn’t forget things like that.

“Yes, he waited for me.”

“And?”

“Nothing. He disappeared. There won’t be more victims added to his list today though.”

Felicity nods briefly. She doubts that the Master will let himself be caught easily, especially in a fight that he started. He wants to have control over what is happening. He decides when a round starts, and he decides when a round ends.

“Where are you now?”

“On the way to City Hall,” Oliver replies, sounding slightly out of breath as he speaks. “I had to give up my motorcycle. City Hall is closer than the bunker, and I cannot run around here in my costume for that long.”

“Of course.”

“Why did you call?” he asks. “Any success with the coding?”

“Yes. I think I found a way to stop this,” Felicity explains. “It’s too long to explain in details-“

“And I wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

“Long story short – I rewrote the code. For around two minutes, the radio tower will message a signal that is a reverse of the code the Master wrote. Hence, it should allow the swellings to go back without threatening to cause a hypotension in the brain. After that, the usual radio signal will be messaged again.”

“Sounds good.”

“I hope so.”

Felicity bites down on her bottom lip nervously. She goes through the code she has written again. It is, without any doubt, the most complicated and most powerful code she has ever written.

“When will the signal start being messaged?”

“Now.”

Felicity presses down on the enter key and holds her breaths. Down in the bunker, she can’t see much, so she quickly calls up the video footage of some surveillance cameras. Everyone is still fighting.

What will she do if it doesn’t work? She has put all her energy into it. She feels like all her knowledge is sucked up. Neither she nor Overwatch or even Ghost Fox Goddess have ever done something like this. It is unethical and doesn’t serve a good purpose, so it is a line she has never crossed before and she will never cross again if she has anything to say about it.

Several minutes pass until Felicity can watch on the monitors as the fight in the city stops. People stop punching each other and look around, frowning.  They don't seem to know what they are doing as they look over their partly blood-covered fingers for some indication. More and more people drop the weapons they are using.

“It is working,” Oliver states over the comm.

Felicity pushes a few more keys and calls up the footage of a surveillance camera that allows her to see Oliver on the rooftop of a building. He is watching over what’s happening in the city, same as Felicity.

“It looks like it. Yes.”

“You are a genius.”

“Maybe a little,” Felicity agrees and almost blushes at the pride in his voice. “At least it works.”

“At least it works,” Oliver repeats. “I have to precede to City Hall now.”

“Probably doesn’t hurt. Everything’s still in chaos at City Hall, at least according to the news.”

“I know. I will go.”

“Okay. I will wait for you here.”

“Thanks.”

Felicity cuts off the connection and puts down her headphones with a long sigh. She leans back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment.

“You okay?” Curtis asks.

“Yes,” Felicity replies quickly and turns her chair to look at Cutis with a tired smile. “I am just tired and exhausted. It has been a long day.”

“True. I think I will head home. Niraj is waiting for me with dinner.”

“I hope you will have a nice evening then,” Felicity says with a tired smile. “I will wait for Oliver and work through this code a little more.”

Curtis frowns. “Why? You broke it.”

“I know I did, but I still don’t completely understand it I think.” Felicity sighs. “I hate mysteries. I want to solve them, especially when they have to do with computers or coding.”

“I understand.” Curtis shoots her a smile and squeezes her shoulder. “See you, Felicity.”

“See you, Curtis.”

She watches him leave the platform and take the elevator out. For a moment, she stays rested back in her chair to relax. Soon, she turns back to her computers though. She needs to understand this code. No matter what.

 

* * *

 

Oliver stuffs his suit into briefcase and pushes the little bottom at the underside of the bow, so he can push it together to a small device and drop it into the briefcase too. It’s good that he is always keeping a spare suit here.

He has just sat down behind his desk when the door opens without knocking and Quentin steps into Oliver’s office. At the sight of the mayor sitting behind his desk, he stops and frowns though.

“Hi,” he says. “I didn’t think you were here.”

“Yeah, I just arrived.”

Quentin perks up his eyebrows. “Through the window?”

“From the roof through the elevator well and in the blind angle of the cameras.”

Oliver is still surprised about how easy it has actually been to break into here. He knows he has arrived at just the right time though, because he heard a lot is going down in the lobby. The press has been hard on Quentin, probably making City Hall responsible for the riots that have been keeping the city in suspense all day.

“It’s actually good that you are here,” Quentin says eventually, closing the door behind him and approaching the desk. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Take a seat,” Oliver offers. “The riots are stopping by the way. Felicity has found a way to make it stop. The last attacks should stop as we speak.”

“Good.” Quentin nods slowly. “Good.”

Oliver frowns slightly. There is something in Quentin’s face that tells him that he has more to say and just doesn’t know how to approach the subject.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “I know it wasn’t fair to you to leave this mess up to you, but there wasn’t much I could do at City Hall and-“

“I talked to some people, Oliver, and they aren’t happy with how you handled this situation today.”

“Quentin, what could I have done here. I was much more helpful as the Green Arrow because we got-“

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Quentin interrupts him. “You know I don’t mind backing you up here. It’s the city that has problems seeing it that way. For them, the city was threatening to burn to ashes and their mayor didn’t show his face once. When Damian Darhk and his ghosts attacked the city almost two years ago, you calmed them down and gave them the hope and the motivation they needed to have them fight against him united. That was the mayor the city would have needed today, but he wasn’t there.”

Oliver leans back in his chair, sucking in a deep breath. He knows that Quentin is pretty right. That is what the city probably thinks it would have needed, and he failed to give them that.

“Look, Oliver, I know you probably did the right thing,” Quentin says after a moment, “but nobody in the city can know that. For them, you just failed your responsibility today.”

With a quiet sigh, Oliver gets up and steps in front of the window. From here, the city looks quiet, like the riots never happened. He knows it’s a fallacy though.

“What do you suggest?”

“I think the best thing for now, as hard as it sounds, is to step back from the office.”

Oliver doesn’t turn around. He just continues looking out of the window.

“I know it’s drastic,” Quentin continues, “but that might be the only way to get back into the good graces of the city. One of the things that people can’t forgive politicians, is if they don’t know when it’s time to let go of their office. Right now, you own up to your mistakes and take the responsibility for them. When things have calmed down, you can come back and offer your help again. They will be grateful and give you another chance.”

Oliver had fought so hard for this job. He thought it would be a good way of taking care of the city, without needing a second identity. It was supposed to make things easier and his work more effective. Maybe, there had even been the quiet hope that someday being the mayor of the city would just be enough to save it.

Quentin is right though. Oliver needs the city’s trust to achieve anything for the city. He cannot take care of it, if the the people living here don’t trust him.

Oliver nods slowly. He knows what he has to do.

He turns around to Quentin, looking at him with wake eyes.

“I have failed this city, so I will give it into more responsible hands,” Oliver says. “Prepare a statement. I will sign it first thing tomorrow morning.”

Oliver takes his briefcase and walks to the door, already about to leave, but Quentin holds him back.

“Oliver.”

He turns around to Quentin, who is still sitting in his chair. He gets up now and looks Oliver in the eyes intently.

“I am really sorry for this.”

Oliver pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants and shrugs his shoulder. He looks around the office for a moment until his eyes find Quentin’s again.

“I took this job because I thought I could help,” he explains eventually. “I thought I could make a better job than many of the mayors before because I know I can’t be corrupted. I made a lot of mistakes though. Maybe I am just not suitable as mayor. That is okay though because I know I can trust you to do a better job than I ever could. That is all that matters.”

“Still has to be disappointing though.”

“Maybe a little.” Oliver shrugs his shoulders once more. “I have Felicity, and I have William though. They are what I truly need. As long as they are safe and happy, I am okay.”

Quentin smiles briefly. “It has to be good to have a family to lean on.”

“It’s better than any job,” Oliver agrees. He has already turned to the door again when he turns back to Quentin once more. “You are part of our family, you know? You don’t have to bury yourself in love because you feel like you don’t have a family anymore. I know that you struggled with Black Siren and who she is, but she isn’t your only chance at having a family.  Felicity, William, and I are your family now, and we are always here for you.”

There is a moment of quiet. Quentin looks touched, even if maybe a little bit embarrassed. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants, mirroring Oliver’s posture and nods.

“Thank you, Oliver.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” Oliver flashes him a half-hearted smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With that, Oliver steps out of the office and lets out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. After spending almost all day running around in the city, it is time to go home.

 

* * *

 

It’s already night by the time Oliver arrives at the bunker. He took a cab, because he wasn’t willing to run into any reports along the way, making it so he only had to walk the last mile.

The drive and his short walk were enough to see how much the city suffered today.  Where people hadn't been able to go at each other, it seemed that they just destroyed whatever else was in their reach. And maybe some people who weren’t even affected by the Master’s manipulation just joined in.

When Oliver steps into the bunker through the back entrance, his eyes find Felicity immediately. She is sitting at her desk, working at her computers. She is completely focused on whatever she is doing there, not looking up even when he comes closer.

Warmth is pooling in his stomach at the sight of her. He remembers what he told Quentin at the office, and he feels the truth of his own words spreading through his veins once more. Felicity and William are his home. His family is what he needs in his life. They are the essential factor of his happiness.

“Hey.”

Felicity only looks up from the monitors briefly. “Hi.”

He bites back an amused chuckle when she just turns back. He knows Felicity well enough to know how focused she can be if it comes to her computer. He steps behind her and kisses the top of her head before he steps to the banister at the other side of the platform. Leaning back against it and crossing his arms in front of his chest, he watches her.

He was never able to lose himself that much in his job at City Hall. Maybe that is the reason why he hadn’t been a good mayor, or at least not as good as he wanted to be.

“Where is everyone?”

“Already back on their way home.”

“We should go home, too. Maybe we could grab some takeout on our way. I think I could use a lazy evening on the couch.” Sighing, he combs his fingers through his hair. “I talked to Quentin at City Hall and he advised me to resign from office. The people aren’t happy that the mayor didn’t show his face when the city was in utter chaos. He thinks if I resign now, I have the chance to take the office back if-” H e pauses, realizing Felicity hasn't heard a word he's said. “Hon?”

Oliver frowns. He watched Felicity closely while he was talking, she not once turned back towards him. She just continued working on her computers until she got up and left the platform. Oliver watches her stepping in front of the med table, holding onto it. Her back is turned towards him, but he can see that her shoulders are tense and her fingers are scraping over the med table nervously.

A cruel suspicion crosses his mind, and he feels his stomach twist slightly. Careful not to make any sounds too loudly, he walks to the other side of the platform and somewhat closer to Felicity. She still doesn’t turn around to him.

“Felicity,” he says calmly and starts walking down the few steps of the platform. “Felicity, talk to me.”

He just reaches the bottommost step, when Felicity suddenly grabs a scalpel from the small table next to her. She turns around to him quickly, her eyes wild and rage is written on her face as she throws the scalpel at him. It misses his face only by a hair’s breadth.

“Felicity.”

There is no soothing her though. She just grabs another scalpel and runs towards him, madness in her eyes.

Oliver knows she is no real threat to him. Even with the Master’s manipulation controlling her, she hasn’t suddenly gained any fighting experience. She is just mad and following her instincts that tell her to attack in whatever way comes to mind.

Still, Oliver feels weirdly helpless. He has disarmed and taken down hundreds of well-trained people in the last years, but fighting against the person you love more than your own life, is something completely different. It scares him more than the fact that Felicity is attacking him.

As soon as she is in his reach, he uses a simple disarming technique to get hold of the scalpel in her fingers. He grabs her wrist and twists her arm on her back, not firmly enough to hurt her, but firmly enough to grasp the scalpel from her hands. He throws it across the room and it ends in the back of one of the chairs at the conference table.

Felicity continues to struggle against his hold. Knowing that she will likely break her own arm, he lets go of her quickly. As soon as his hand loosens around her wrist, she turns around. Her hand hits his cheek, and he groans lowly when her fingers dig into his skin and firmly scratch him.

She tries to hit him once more, swinging her fist in the direction of his face, but Oliver is prepared this time. He grabs her fist to turn her and pull her against him. Her back is pressed to his chest and his arms are wrapped around her so tightly that her own arms are trapped and press against her body.

Oliver takes a look around, trying to figure out what to do. Even if he gets to move her over to her work station, he knows Felicity’s system can be quite complicated. He doesn’t want to risk using the wrong code and making her listen to the code the Master has written instead of the reversed version she wrote to help ease the swelling in the frontal lobe.

He needs to find another way to snap her out of this.

Just when Felicity manages to sneak her arm out of Oliver’s grip, her hand moving back and hitting against his face repeatedly, Oliver finally gets an idea.

He turns around, so he and Felicity are both facing the training mats. He pushes Felicity away from him. He uses enough strength to make her stumble several feet away from him, but not enough to make her fall.

Even though Felicity has attacked him, Oliver is unable to see her as an opponent. He remembers telling her during their first date that she had been the first person he really saw as a person instead of a target or a threat. But now, he sees even more than that in her. She’s not a target. She’s not a threat. She is his wife, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Protecting her with his life is his task, and he will stop her any other way than using his fighting experience.

“Felicity.”

His voice is calm. He needs to say her name, though he knows that his voice doesn’t really reach her. She is unable to process his attempt at soothing her. She cannot see that he is not her enemy or that her behavior is only a result of a terrible manipulation.

Felicity stumbles against one of the glass boxes. Without hesitation, she grabs Dinah’s bo-staff. She turns back around to him, her face still wild, and tries to go at him. Oliver lets her get close enough, so he actually has to duck away under the bo-staff when she swings it at him. She continues trying to hit him with it, but Oliver avoids it deftly. Doing so, he makes sure he directs Felicity onto the training mats.

“Felicity,” he tries to approach her once more, “let the bo-staff fall.”

He knows it makes no sense. She has no control over what she is doing right now. If he hoped that there is a way around doing what he knows will help her to ground herself in reality, he would do it. With a bluster, Felicity runs towards him and attacks him with the bo-staff.

Oliver ducks away when she swings it at him the first time. The next time, he holds onto the other end tightly and pulls at it. Felicity stumbles against his chest, giving Oliver the opportunity to move the bo-staff behind her knees. When he leans forward, it eventually causes Felicity to fall down into the training mats. He lands on top of her, his body covering hers and keeping her down.

“Let me go!”

She screams, trying to struggle out from under him, but Oliver doesn’t let her. He rests all his weight on her body, so she isn’t able to move out from underneath him. He grabs her hands with his and moves them to their chest, holding her right hand to his heart and her left hand to her heart. No matter how much she tries to escape, he doesn’t let her.

It breaks his heart a little to see her fighting him like that and the fact that she is still struggling and screaming makes him doubt whether this is really helping. Felicity had said that a distraction from the loss of impulse control, something to ground them in reality, will hopefully help the people that have been affected by the Master. She hadn’t been sure about it, but Felicity is the smartest person Oliver knows. He doesn’t believe that she would be wrong.

“Felicity.” Oliver squeezes her hands. “Felicity, look at me.”

Felicity looks at him. He can see in her eyes that she wants to fight him, but the moment their eyes lock onto each other’s, something changes. Her muscles relax a little, and she stops fighting him as much as she has before. She is breathing heavily, but she keeps still. Yet, he can see that this isn’t over. She does not have back dul control over herself.

“Felicity,” he whispers her name again, even more gently than the last time and squeezes her hands. “Just focus on this. I am right here. I am not going anywhere. We are both here.”

A small frown forms between Felicity’s eyebrows. Oliver can see that her memory is dawning. Only a few hours ago, she had said the exact same words to him. She must remember that.

“Come back to me.”

Felicity looks at him intently for a couple of seconds. Oliver feels like he can lose himself in the blue of her eyes, that he can lose himself in her. Soon, Felicity’s eyes fill with confusion though. Whatever will to fight that had been in them, fades away.

“What happened?” she asks, still looking around. When her eyes find his again, she frowns. “What happened to your face.”

Oliver releases a sigh of relief. He lets go of Felicity’s wrists and wraps his arms around her small body instead. He closes his eyes and turns them both around, so his back is pressing into the training mats and Felicity is lying on top of him. She doesn’t hesitate to rest her head against his heart and snuggle up to him. Oliver can still feel the tension in her muscles.

“It’s okay,” he whispers and kisses her hair. “It’s all going to be okay.”

 

* * *

 

When Oliver pulls the blanket tight around her, Felicity chuckles.

“Oliver, you know you don’t have to take such good care of me.”

“Yes, I do,” Oliver replies. He lifts his left hand and wiggles with his fingers. “Married and all, remember?”

Felicity smiles, watching his face as he precedes to adjust the blanket until he is sure that it is really wrapped around her tightly. He takes in a deep breath and lifts his gaze to her eyes. The air escapes him the moment their eyes lock onto each other’s.

She still has trouble believing what happened. Of course, after they caught their breaths, Oliver told her that she attacked him. She doesn’t remember any of it though. All she knows is that one second, she had been working on her computers and the next, Oliver was keeping her pinned down onto the training mats. Everything between that was just black.

Continuing to look at Oliver, Felicity lifts her hand to his cheek. The scratches she left on his cheek are quite deep, at least they look quite deep.

“Well, since we are talking about marriage and all,” Felicity repeats Oliver’s words and wiggles with the fingers of her own left hand too, “could you get me the first aid box from the bathroom please?”

Oliver frowns, watching her face with worry.

“Maybe we should have gone to the hospital nonetheless. I mean a swelling in the brain, even if-“

“Oliver, we talked to Dr. Schwartz and she said herself that no patient needed real medical treatment. They all healed by themselves,” Felicity reminds him. “Anyway, the first aid box is not for me. It’s for you.”

Oliver frowns for a moment. When Felicity nods to his cheek, he just waves it off.

“It’s nothing.”

“Great. If it’s nothing, it won’t hurt if I disinfect it.”

Another minute passes as Oliver seems unwilling to give in. Felicity isn’t any less stubborn though. She wants to take care of the scratches she has left on his skin, and Oliver isn’t going to convince her otherwise.

Eventually, he comes to the same conclusion, because he rolls his eyes and walks over to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Felicity sinks a little deeper into bed and rests her head against the pillow for a moment.

She looks around the loft – her loft or her former loft, well, her work-loft now. She hasn’t used the bed here in a while. Despite working long hours most days, she has always called it a day when she had been too tired. The need to go home, have dinner with her family and snuggle into bed with Oliver always kept her from working herself to exhaustion.

Oliver had been the one who has suggested coming here tonight instead of going home. That way, Rene, Dinah and Curtis could spend a nice evening there with William and Zoe and all five will be spoilt with Raisa’s good food. William doesn’t have to see that the chaos that kept the city in suspense so much today also had affected his father and stepmother directly.

When Oliver comes back from the living room, she smiles at him and pats the edge of the mattress. Oliver complies to her wordless demand with a quiet chuckle. He sits down on the side of the bed and puts the first aid box to her lap.

“Are you sure it’s okay for William if we spend a night away?”

“A night without his parents?” Oliver perks up his eyebrows. “Which thirteen-year-old doesn’t enjoy that once in a while?”

“Well, maybe a thirteen-year-old that has seen the news and knows what’s been going on in the city today,” Felicity replies. “William knows what we were handling today, and I don’t want him to think that one of us is severely injured.”

Felicity takes a cotton pad from the box and sprays some of the antiseptic onto it. Straightening up, she takes another look at the three fine scratches on Oliver’s cheek and wipes the cotton pad against them carefully. Oliver hisses in response.

“I thought it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not,” Oliver says. “It just stings.”

Felicity smiles. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that the man, who stiches his own wounds without using anesthetic, complains when she is taking care of his bruises.

“I told him that you were affected, but that you were alright and just needed a little rest,” Oliver replies eventually. “He knows we are both alright.”

“Okay.”

Felicity drops the cotton pad into the first aid box again and puts a band-aid to his scratches. Framing his face with her hands, she closes the distance between them and kisses the corner of his mouth. Oliver smiles at her when she pulls back, but his eyebrow cringes slightly after a second.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity whispers.

Oliver shakes his head and lifts her hand to his lips. He kisses the palm and rests her hand against his cheek. He snuggles his face into her touch. Felicity smiles at how peaceful he looks.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he whispers. “You weren’t yourself.”

Felicity nods and lowers her eyes. Rationally, she knows that Oliver is right. She had been out of control. Even though she cannot remember it, she knows it from the research she did earlier in the day and from what Oliver told her as well. It still feels weird knowing that she attacked him.

She remembers that she realized feeling off. She had been getting nervous, and when Oliver started talking, she suddenly felt incredibly angry for no reason. She tried to fight the feeling, but eventually, everything blanked out.

“How are you doing?” Oliver asks her after a bit, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I just have a headache,” Felicity replies with a sigh. “And please don’t tell me you told me so.”

Oliver perks up his eyebrows. “Why would I say that?”

“Well, you were strictly against me working on encrypting that code. We even fought about it. The thing is that I wanted to do this, and I managed to do it. It was the right thing to do, and trying to understand that code even after I solved the problem was necessary too because it will make it easier if the Master uses something like this again and-“

“Hey,” Oliver interrupts her gently. “I am not going to tell you I told you so, because you are right. It was necessary.”

Felicity releases a breath of relief. She can usually hold herself in a discussion with Oliver, but her headache is really bad and she doesn’t want to fight right now.

“I have to apologize too,” Oliver says eventually.

Felicity perks up her eyebrows. “For what?”

“For giving you the feeling that I don’t trust your abilities. I do trust your abilities, and I know that, if anyone could do this, it’s you. I was just worried about you. I don’t like seeing you in danger. It just makes me nervous and wakes the instinct to protect you. When it comes to computers, I know I have to trust that you can protect yourself better than anyone else could though.”

Felicity bites down on her tongue, suppressing a sarcastic comment about how well that has worked out. But Oliver doesn’t talk about it and neither will she.

“Felicity, I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you, or maybe that is not true. After Darhk’s ghosts shot you the night we got engaged for the first time, I was going off the rails, and it wouldn’t be any different now. It would only be worse. I cannot bear the thought that someone hurts you. Ever.”

Oliver’s voice cracks, and Felicity takes his hands, lacing her fingers through his. She strokes her thumbs over the backs of his hands and takes in a deep breath.

“I am fine,” she assures Oliver, squeezing his hand. “I am here, and I am fine. That is what we have to focus on.”

She vaguely remembers that Oliver has repeated those words that she said earlier today already when she has been under the influence of the Master’s code. Snippets of memory come back to her like the scalpel she tried attacking him with and the fact that he told her about resigning as mayor.

“I am sorry you have to give up being the mayor.”

Oliver perks up his eyebrows, wordlessly asking how she knows that. Felicity just smiles and brushes her fingertips against her temple. Oliver smiles back at her, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, it’s better that way,” Oliver says and shrugs his shoulders. “I need the city’s trust. Otherwise, I cannot do anything for them. I will earn their trust back.”

Felicity squeezes his hands comfortingly. “I know you will.”

“Just not now,” Oliver adds. “I want to win their trust back. I will win their trust back. Right now, it’s more important to catch the Master though. If today proved anything, it’s that he needs to be stopped. He’s a danger to our family, and he’s a danger to the city. He needs to be taken down.”

Felicity nods her head firmly. “Good because I agree with that. Get me my laptop and we will start working on it right now and-“

“No, no, no,” Oliver interrupts her and chuckles, squeezing her hands. “We are not going to do this tonight. Tonight, you have to rest.”

“I’m fine. My headache is already better. It’s almost gone,” Felicity says quickly. “I am ready to get back to work.”

Felicity is serious. If needed, she can go right back to the bunker and start working on finding out where the Master is. She hasn’t had too much success trying so in the last months, but maybe he has left some traces now. After what had happened today, at least her motivation to find him has reached a peak.

“No,” Oliver replies after a moment and shakes his head firmly. “Tonight, we won’t even talk about the Master. We won’t talk about him, and we won’t talk about City Hall because tonight we won’t spend time together as Overwatch and Green Arrow or CEO and soon-to-be ex-mayor. Tonight, we will spend time as husband and wife. I am going to take care of you.”

Felicity smiles warmly. There has been a time not so long ago that she thought Oliver’s need to make sure they always have time to spend as husband and wife was a sign that he was running away from his life as Green Arrow. When they first got together, they left the city to travel the world, so the suspicion hadn’t come out of nowhere. She knows now that he just wants to make sure that they don’t lose themselves and lose each other in their busy lives. Spending time together as husband and wife helps them to charge their batteries and allows them to be even fitter for their jobs and the responsibilities they put upon themselves with fighting for the city.

Releasing a low sigh, Felicity leans back into the pillow and nods her head. Spending a night with Oliver and not thinking about tomorrow actually sounds like a good day. The day has been terribly exhausting.

“So, what do you have in mind?”

Oliver puckers his lips and shoots a look down to what used to be the living area when they had still been living here. After a moment, he looks back at her.

“We could order takeout and watch movies together,” he suggests. “I am pretty sure you still owe me a rewatch of  _ Die Hard _ .”

Felicity scrunches up her nose.  _ Die Hard _ is not only Oliver’s favorite Christmas movie. It is his favorite movie of all. She can’t count how many times he has convinced her to watch it so far. It is why she is pretty sure she hadn’t promised him watching that movie again.

Oliver chuckles, noticing her disagreement. He taps his forefinger against the tip of her nose.

“Fine, no  _ Die Hard _ ,” he says. “Suggest another movie.”

“Well, maybe I have a much better suggestion than any movie.”

Oliver perks up his eyebrows. Nosiness is showing in his eyes. Felicity smiles and pushes the blanket, that Oliver has tugged into place so neatly before, away. She climbs onto his lap, straddling it, and wraps her arms around his neck. Her fingers move into his hair. Her chest presses against his. With a smile, she captures his lips in a gentle kiss.

Oliver responds to the kiss hesitatingly at first. Soon, his arms wrap around her waist tightly and pull her closer to him. His lips open, and his tongue move over her bottom lip. Felicity sighs, opening her lips to the touch of his tongue. Their tongues stroke together, meeting in a slow dance, and Felicity sighs into the kiss contently.

Their lips break apart eventually. Oliver nuzzles her nose with his and leans his forehead against hers. Felicity can feel his breath ghosting over her chin, and it makes her smile. She loves being so close to Oliver.

“What do you say?” Felicity asks and nuzzles his nose back. “My suggestion or my suggestion.”

Oliver chuckles. “I’d say your suggestion, but are you fit enough for that? An hour ago, you were completely out of yourself and-“

“I am fine,” she promises him in a whisper. “Besides, we still have some unfinished business with each other, don’t we?”

Oliver hums and moves his hands from her back over her waist and to the front of her blouse. He makes quick work of the buttons and pulls the fabric down her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor carelessly. He pulls back and locks eyes with her then.

“I think this is where we stopped, didn’t we?”

Felicity smiles and already feels heat pooling in the pit of her stomach. She had been so turned on earlier today, and just thinking back to it makes her body tingle with anticipation.

“Exactly.”

Oliver angles his head a little further back, and Felicity captures his lips with hers. Her fingers tighten around some strands of Oliver’s hair, holding onto it tightly. She starts moving on him slowly, thrusting her hips against his as much as her skirt allows her to.

Wrapping his arms back around her, he turns their bodies. Her back sinks into the soft mattress, and Oliver’s warm body covers her like a human blanket. Her skin tingles with the need to feel his skin against her. She wants to feel the play of his muscles with no barrier between them.

“You are overdressed,” Felicity whispers against his lips and tugs at his shirt. “This needs to go.”

Oliver complies eagerly. He sits back on his heels between her spread legs and unbuttons his shirt. Felicity stays rested back in the pillow, just watching Oliver and enjoying the view. No matter how many times she has seen him shirtless, he never fails to take her breath away. Knowing he is all hers only adds to the intensity, as her body reacts with the sight.

Tonight, Felicity doesn’t want a long foreplay. She has been waiting to feel Oliver inside of her all day, and she already feels so on edge, that she can barely wait for it. She pulls down the zipper of her skirt and wiggles her hips until she can slide the fabric down her hips. Oliver helps her, lifting her legs and taking the skirt off her completely. It joins the rest of the clothes that have already been discarded on the floor.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Felicity watches Oliver for a moment longer. She lifts her hand and beckons him to come closer to her. Oliver doesn’t have to be told twice. Putting his hands to both sides of her head, he lowers his body back onto hers. Their lips meet in another gentle kiss, and Felicity embraces his hips with her legs, opening herself up to Oliver.

Their bodies move together slowly. Oliver thrusts his hips against her core, the zipper of his jeans pressing against all her sensitive spots as he does so. Despite the several layers of clothing between them, Felicity can feel him harden. She moans into the kiss, responding to his thrusts by lifting her hips to meet his.

Felicity moves her hand over the pillow until she finds Oliver’s hand. Their fingers lace together, holding onto each other tightly. It’s a simple touch, but it creates so much intimacy. Never has Felicity felt closer to anyone than she feels to Oliver each day of their lives.

A particular hard thrust makes Felicity gasp for breath. Her desire for Oliver and her need for him grows quickly. Letting go of his hand, she moves both her hands between their bodies. She spreads her fingers against Oliver’s chest and allows them to travel down his torso. She enjoys the play of his muscles and the feeling of the rough scar tissue where the last years of his life have left their marks on him. She has memorized every inch of his body, the way every muscle presses against her and the way every scar looks and feels. Still, she knows she will never get tired of exploring his body all over again.

As soon as her fingers reach the waistband of his pants, she unbuttons them. She hooks her fingers into the band and starts tugging his pants down, taking his boxer briefs with her at the same time. She can feel him hot and hard against her thigh, and it makes them both groan.

“Oliver.”

Felicity’s hoarse whisper mingles with the sounds of their erratic breathing. She knows she doesn’t need to say more. Oliver knows that she wants the piece of clothing off his body completely and needs his help to do so.

For a moment, he deepens their kiss. His front teeth dig into her bottom lip. He bites down there gently. His teeth scrape over the sensitive skin, leaving a delicious sting that makes Felicity moan and arch her back. As his tongue swipes over her bottom lip to take away the pain his teeth have left, his hands sneak under her body and unhook her bra, taking it off her.

“Felicity.”

Now, he’s the one whispering her name. It’s no request for help though. It’s simply a proof for how much he wants her and how much he needs her.

The atmosphere is completely different than it has been during their make out-session earlier today. This isn’t heated. There is no anger driving them. There is no need to stop. What hasn’t changed is how easily their bodies are reminded of how much they want each other and need each other.

Felicity angles her head back a little until Oliver breaks their kiss. His eyes lock on hers, and she can see the desire in them. With his pupils blown wide and his iris darkened, she knows that he wants and needs this just as much as she does right now.

“These need to go.”

Her voice is hoarse as she whispers the four little words, and her fingers tremble a little with need when she tugs at his pants once more. Oliver looks at her for a moment longer, enjoying the view of her half-naked body. He brushes his fingers against her collarbone and slowly moves them down her chest. His calloused fingertips stroke against her soft skin, moving down the valley between her breasts and over her ribcage to her hips.

“These need to go to.”

His fingers brush against her panties, as he repeats her own words, and Felicity sucks in a deep breath. The anticipation makes her entire body tingle. Her blood is pulsating in her core, making her walls flutter with the need to feel him.

She can see the same need in Oliver’s eyes, so they quickly move apart. Oliver climbs off the bed to get rid of his pants and boxer briefs. In the meantime, Felicity wiggles out of her panties.

When Oliver crawls back onto the bed, her covers Felicity’s body again. His skin is as heated as hers, burning from the longing for each other. His hands roam over her body just as gently as Felicity moves over his muscles and his scars, exploring him all over again. There is a deep need in their kiss.

Soon, Oliver lowers his hands between them and positions himself at her entrance. They break the kiss to lock eyes on each other. Felicity frames Oliver’s face with her hands, stroking her fingertips through Oliver’s stubble gently. Slowly, Oliver starts entering her. Felicity’s lips open in a breathless pant, and she arches her back, pressing her chest against Oliver’s.

Once he is seated deep inside of her, they both stay unmoving. They adjust to the feeling of being joined together like that. Their eyes stayed locked onto each other, and they say a thousand words of love just by looking at each other. Not a single one of them needs to fall from their lips though. Felicity and Oliver have always understood each other without words.

Their lips move together at the same time, meeting in a loving kiss. Their hips start moving together in a slow rhythm.

Soft waves of pleasure run through Felicity’s body. She wraps her legs around his hips, anchoring herself to Oliver, because in this moment, he is all that matters. It’s just him and her and the way she feels when they are together like this.

Their bodies continue rocking together, moving with each other like in a slow dance. Felicity feels her arousal increasing. Her pleasure increases quickly. The soft waves turn into a heavy storm. Felicity feels it taking over her entire body. She knows she could not fight it even if she wanted to. All she can do is surrender.

Soon, almost too soon, Felicity feels her orgasm approaching.

“Oliver.”

She whispers his name against his lips, letting him know how close to the peak of her pleasure she is. Her heart is racing. Her skin feels like it is on fire. Her hips move against Oliver’s of their own accord. She has no control over it. Her body just reacts to whatever Oliver does, trying to get the most of her pleasure.

A particularly had thrust makes Felicity break the kiss. She gasps for breath and arches her back even more. Her chest presses against Oliver’s so close that she can feel his heartbeat against her ribs. Her eyes snap open, meeting Oliver’s gaze that is already on her.

Oliver finds her hand on the mattress, lacing his fingers with hers. The next thrust makes Felicity’s heels press against Oliver’s butt more firmly. The second thrust makes her lips fall open in a silent cry. The third thrust makes the pleasure spread throughout her entire body.

She keeps her eyes open, watching Oliver’s face. He watches her intently, and she knows he tries to prolong this for her as long as possible. Only when she squeezes his hand, telling him that it’s okay, does he give into his own pleasure. With two more thrusts, he comes.

“Felicity.”

His name falls from her lips right before their lips meet in another heated kiss. They pour all their emotions into it, wordlessly telling each other how much they love each other. Felicity moans against his lips, moving her fingers down Oliver’s back. His skin is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and it makes Felicity smile into their kiss.

When their lips eventually part, they are both breathing heavily. Their eyes lock once more, the desire for each other still visible in them. Oliver squeezes her hand.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Oliver smiles and leans down to brush his lips against hers briefly. He moves his free hand to her face and strokes his fingertips over his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

They don’t need to say the words. They both know what they feel for each other. There is no doubt about it. Yet, it always feels good saying and hearing these words aloud.

Oliver lowers himself onto Felicity completely, kissing her once more. Felicity sighs contently and strokes her fingers through Oliver’s hair.

A night as husband and wife might indeed be what they both needed tonight.

 

* * *

 

He watches them from a distance. Their naked bodies are moving together. They are kissing. They are laughing. They are enjoying their evening. They are enjoying their time together. They are enjoying life.

Wild anger roars in his chest. He clenches his hand to a fist, unclenches it and clenches it again.

This day hasn’t been a victory for Oliver Queen. He has been forced to watch people in his beloved city attacking each other. He hasn’t been able to prevent eight cruel deaths. He has been urged into resigning from the mayoral office.

He, the Master, has done this. He has been the one who has made the people living in Star City turn against each other. He has been the one who has killed eight people in cold blood. His actions have forced Oliver to resign as mayor. Today has been his victory.

But no matter what he does, no matter what he takes away from him, there is always a part of Oliver Queen that wins. He has lost his job as mayor, and the Green Arrow has failed the city today. Oliver Queen, the husband and father, never seems to be affected by that though.

The Master knows Oliver Queen, and he knows what’s important to him. He has thought that tearing down everything Oliver Queen built by proceeding piece by piece, would be a good idea. His plan has been to make sure Oliver Queen knows his power before he takes everything and everyone that Oliver Queen loves.

Looking at him and his wife now, the Master wonders if he has been wrong.

Felicity Smoak and William Clayton are the heart of Oliver’s Queen’s life. They are his backbone, the one thing that will always make him get up, no matter how many times he is defeated.

Attacking the city and going for his position as mayor hadn’t been personal enough. Oliver Queen has taken his family away from him. His bare existence has been enough to change the life Darren McKnight could have had.

“I will make sure that you feel what it’s like if someone else has control over your life,” he says calmly. “You will suffer through the same loss I have experienced. You will lose your family, and then we’ll see if you can still pick yourself up.”


	15. The Reckoning, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Reckoning, Part One" by arrow_through_my_writers_block, MachaSWicket, OlicitySmoaky
> 
> Beta'd by Ilse - many thanks to Ilse for the time-crunch work on this; all remaining errors are ours!

 

 

“Hold on, hold on!” Felicity calls, hurrying towards the door to the loft that has become Smoak Technologies headquarters. She pulls the door open to reveal Lyla at her casual badass best -- navy v-neck, dark pants, and low-heeled boots, with a small gun holstered at her hip. “Lyla, hi! Come in!”

Lyla steps inside, pausing to give Felicity a brisk hug, and then moves towards the oversized dining room table by the windows. “Sorry I’m late. JJ was _very_ insistent that I be the one to read him his bedtime story since I’ve been away these last few days.”

Felicity waves off Lyla’s apology with a smile. “I’m just glad we could make tonight work. Besides,” she taps the cork of the bottle of Syrah with one fingernail, “business meetings are always better with wine!”

Chuckling, Lyla sets down her leather tote bag, and pulls a thick set of documents out. “The testing looks great, Felicity,” she says. “I’ve heard nothing but irritable grumblings from our security team.”

Felicity applies the high end corkscrew to the bottle, and it eases the cork out with a smooth _thump_. She pours them each a generous glass, then takes the seat kitty-corner to Lyla, at the head of the table. “So,” Felicity asks with an admittedly smug grin, “none of your hackers could break my encryption?”

Lyla quirks an eyebrow. “Not one,” she admits, then takes an appreciative sip. “This is good. What--?”  Lyla goes still, her gaze on something behind Felicity. “ _Down_!”

Before Felicity can react, Lyla is unholstering the gun at her waist as she rises to her feet. Glancing over her shoulder, Felicity sees several figures moving on the balcony outside the loft. She reaches for her phone, and with two swipes of her finger, she’s sent the team an alert.

“Felicity, _move_ ,” Lyla orders, moving to place her body between the swarm of maybe a half-dozen figures crashing through the balcony door. It’s hard to tell, since these guys are just vaguely human-shaped shadows at this point, but they _have_ to be the Master’s minions.

Black Siren stands at the center, her trademark smirk in place. Lyla smoothly fires at the advancing men as Felicity scrambles to her feet, absently cursing her decision to wear these extra-cute four-inch heels.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Black Siren drawls, keeping one of the structural beams between herself and Lyla’s gun, “to find you two so _very_ outnumbered.”

Felicity bites back a retort, focusing her attention on the more immediate threats, which are the men still advancing, using all of Curtis and Felicity’s mismatched office furniture as cover. Though, Felicity notes in the small part of her mind that’s _not_ busy panicking, they are _not_ firing their weapons, which either means they’re working on capture-not-kill orders, or -- and this is even less pleasant -- they’re acting like herding dogs, funneling she and Lyla into a corner so Black Siren can _soundwave_ them to death.

“That does _not_ sound like fun,” she mutters to herself, peering around the dining room chair in the hopes she’ll see _something_ positive. But no. Felicity is not a hand-to-hand fighter, and even she can tell things are very not good. She and Lyla are outnumbered, and basically trapped in the kitchen end of the apartment. _Kitchen_. She scuttles backwards and Lyla moves with her, firing at the figures closest to them as Felicity guides them behind the large island. “God bless the open concept design,” she mutters, crouching as best she can behind the island’s bulk.

Lyla takes up a shooter’s position, using the countertop to steady her gun and the island as protection.

The Master’s henchmen are still advancing, slowed only a little by Lyla’s pinpoint accuracy. Felicity reaches up, feeling across the countertop for the knife block, which she pulls down beside her, narrowly avoiding raining sharp knives on her own head. She dumps them onto the floor with a clatter and shifts to her knees, peering over the counter before hurling the heavy wooden block right at the head of the nearest bad guy. When she hears a thunk and a yelp, she gives herself a tiny fist pump.

“Felicity,” Lyla snaps. “There’s an extra clip in my left pocket.”

“Right,” Felicity nods. “Bullets. More bullets.” She scrambles over to her friend. “Got it.” She fishes the metal clip from Lyla’s pocket and shifts, holding it aloft for Lyla. “Ready.”

Lyla ducks her head down, releasing the empty clip and letting it clatter to the floor, sweeping the full clip from Felicity’s hand and slamming it home. “Two down, one moving slow,” she murmurs as she works. “Three hostiles advancing with Black Siren hanging back.” Lyla racks the slide and shifts two feet to the right before popping back up and taking aim.

Felicity flings open the cabinets, looking for anything in the _non-knife_ category she can use as a weapon. In succession, she hurls a set of nesting mixing bowls, a cast iron skillet, and a glass casserole dish in the general direction of the bad guys. There are more harmless crashes than painful thumps, so her accuracy clearly leaves something to be desired.

“Frak,” she mutters, hesitantly reaching for a knife. She’s seen Oliver do it a hundred times, but it still seems incredibly unlikely that she’ll be able to throw a steak knife with any sort of accuracy in this moment. Also, accuracy means impalement, which _ew_. “Here goes nothing.”

Holding the blade dull side to her palm, Felicity pops up at Lyla’s shoulder, fixes her sights on the closest bad guy, and throws the knife. Which promptly clanks lengthwise into his armored vest and clatters to the floor. When his gun swings her way, Felicity dives back down for another knife.

“Good,” Lyla says, her voice amazingly calm considering their dire situation -- pinned down and in danger of being surrounded at any moment by guys with big guns and bad intentions. “Keep a weapon for when they get closer.”

Black Siren lets out a blast of sonic waves, and everything on the island above them comes crashing down on their heads.

“Frak!” Felicity yelps when the small -- but _heavy_ \-- marble pestle and mortar bounce painfully off of her knee, then shatter on the floor beside her. She grabs a steak knife, pops up, and throws it, reaching for another so quickly she cuts her hand. With a hiss, she pulls a larger knife from the shimmering pile of blades at her feet, and hurls it a bit wildly.

And then there’s a figure rushing around the edge of the island and tackling Lyla.

“Hey!” Felicity shouts, instinctively reaching for the marble rolling pin and -- as is her default in scary fighting situations -- swings it with all of her might at the guy wrestling for Lyla’s gun. It stuns him long enough for Lyla to squirm free and fire.

But another figure is already on Lyla, and Black Siren rounds the counter on Felicity’s side with a very villainous sweep of her leather duster. “Stay back!” Felicity warns, brandishing the rolling pin.

With a smirk, Black Siren grabs Felicity’s wrist and yanks her forward, then hurls her to the floor. Felicity slams into the polished concrete floor and yelps in pain when her elbow hits, then her cheekbone. There are broken bits of ceramic biting into her thigh, and she’s dangerously close to the few remaining knives on the floor. She lost the rolling pin when she fell, but she tries like hell to pull herself over to it, even though she can feel Black SIren looming over her. Beside her, Felicity can hear Lyla struggling, and then another gunshot.

“Lyla,” she manages, trying to turn her head to try to check on her friend. But Black Siren drops down, gracefully straddling Felicity’s back. She takes Felicity’s head in her hands and slams her temple into the floor.

The world goes black.

  
  


& & &

  
  


**24 HOURS EARLIER**

 

Drained by the events of the day, Oliver opens the door to their apartment, holding it for Felicity to enter before him.

William appears from the kitchen with an apron around his waist and a smear of red sauce on his cheek. “Dad!” He runs over to hug Oliver, who closes his eyes and lets himself sag into his son, just a bit. He didn’t realize how much he’d needed this kind of reassurance until William offered it, and he squeezes the boy a bit harder.

It’s been an exhausting evening -- his rushed press conference to announce his resignation as mayor had, predictably, devolved into a cacophony of accusations and insults very thinly veiled as legitimate press inquiries. None of which helped with his relatively fragile emotions -- all he wants now is to be somewhere quiet with his family to rest and recover from recent events.

William pulls back and looks up at his father with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

Oliver’s smile is small, but genuine. “I’m fine, buddy.”

William nods and turns to Felicity, greeting her with a hug, too. “Raisa and I made dinner,” he announces proudly, heading back towards the kitchen and expecting them to follow.

Oliver glances at Felicity, who takes his hand and squeezes. “Go on.” She releases him and turns. He’s tempted to watch her adorable _getting home_ routine, but he leaves her to step out of her shoes, hang up her coat, and partially empty her hand bag.

Raisa looks up from the stovetop and studies him for a moment. “Mister Oliver,” she greets him warmly, an undertone of concern in her voice. “We made lasagna.”

Oliver’s smile is wider this time. “Comfort food,” he surmises. “Thank you.”

Raisa approaches, reaching up to cup his cheek the way she did when he was a little boy. “You’re a good man. Hold onto that.”

He leans down to kiss her cheek. “ _Spasibo_ ,” he answers in Russian, then looks over at the dinner table, which is bare. “I’ll set the table,” he offers, “since you two have the meal under control.”

Felicity appears, greeting Raisa warmly and then giving William a brief but enthusiastic hug before she claps her hands together and announces, “I’ll choose a bottle of wine!”

Oliver savors the warm comfort of his family as he methodically lays out napkins and silverware. Felicity appears at his side, lightly resting her hand on his back as she leans over to set down the bottle of Sangiovese. She straightens up and turns into him, clasping his hand in both of hers and resting her chin against his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

It’s such a comfort to live his life with a woman who can read him so clearly and offers him unquestioned support -- really the only answer he can give is, “Yes. I am.” Many aspects of his life outside of these walls are in various states of disrepair, but as long as his family is safe, he’s okay.

And Oliver has faith that they will figure out the rest.

& & &

It’s not a good sign that Quentin is greeted on his first morning as mayor of Star City by Rene, who quirks a sarcastic eyebrow and announces, “We have a rat problem.”

Quentin pauses with his hand on Oliver’s -- _his_ \-- office door. “A rat problem?”

Rene gestures towards the office and Quentin grumbles as he pushes his way inside, hesitating again when he sets eyes on the large desk with the seal of Starling City hanging above it. Being mayor isn’t something Quentin ever expected, and he’s not entirely comfortable with it yet, so he leads Rene over to the couches by the window. “Rat problem?” he prompts, wondering whether this is about leaks to the press.

“All the construction in the Glades,” Rene explains. “The rats that used to live in those old buildings that are getting knocked down are a lot more visible now that they’re looking for _new_ basements to inhabit The residents want the city to provide rat-proof trash cans.” He holds up a sheaf of papers. “There’s a petition.”

Quentin grimaces, smoothing his tie down. “Oliver wasn’t lying about the glamour of politics,” he mutters, rubbing a bit at the sore muscles along his ribs. Getting old is a parade of unidentified aches and pains.

Rene eyes him suspiciously. “You okay, Hoss?”

Quentin waves off the concern. “I’m well enough to talk about rat-resistant trash cans, unfortunately.”

There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Lucia pokes her head in. “Councilor Wainwright is--”

“Mr. Mayor,” Councilor Wainwright interrupts, breezing past Lucia and into the mayor’s office, holding out his hand for Quentin to shake.

Quentin gives Wainwright’s hand a solid shake, then steps back. “Good morning, Councilor.”

“As the ranking member of City Council, I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the job.” Wainwright shifts slightly, glancing dismissively at Rene before turning back to Quentin with a practiced smile. “Do you think we could speak for a few moments about how best to work together?”

Rene gives the councilor a sour look. “Sir,” he says, with an irritable tone, “I need to get back to--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quentin interrupts, “the rats can wait.” He knows Rene is more concerned about Wainwright’s intentions than vermin, but considering that the team has suspected Wainwright of corruption for _months_ , he’s more than willing to risk a meeting with no witnesses. Maybe his rusty detective skills can get something useful out of the man.

When the door closes behind Rene, Quentin turns back to his visitor. Councilor Wainwright has already settled himself into one of the visitor’s chairs, hands clasped together in his lap, the hint of smugness in his face.

Quentin forces himself to ignore the oddity of the situation and rounds Oliver’s desk to sit across from the councilor, directly under the city seal.

Before he can speak, Wainwright says, “I hope that a man who spent decades at the SCPD understands how this city _really_ works a lot better than a rich dilettante,” he begins. “Politics, especially local politics, is really all about _relationships_.”

Quentin watches Wainwright curiously.

The councilor shifts in his seat. “I think you and I are going to have a great relationship. Don’t you agree?”

 

& & &

 

Felicity flits between the high-powered computer in the corner that’s running a diagnostic on her latest -- _hopefully_ perfect -- iteration of the encryption software, and Curtis’s workbench, where he’s using teeny, tiny tools and a magnifying lens to put the finishing touches on the hardware.

They’ve been pushing pretty hard on timelines for this, working truly absurd hours to get the prototype perfected. Which is why Felicity is over-caffeinated and exhausted and _so_ hopeful that she can’t quite contain her energy.

Hence the bouncing back and forth between Curtis and her computers.

“Felicity,” Curtis warns, his gaze steady on the prototype and his words uncharacteristically slow, “this is delicate work and I need you to--”

“ _Not_ get in the way,” she interrupts. “Or jiggle the table. Got it.” She glances over at her computer which is still working through the program, and frowns. “Maybe I can--”

“Knock, knock,” Oliver says, opening the door to the loft and stepping inside.

“Oliver!” Felicity frowns at him, confused, and he hesitates by the door.

“I brought snacks.” Oliver holds a bag aloft, and Felicity brightens, moving to greet him with a kiss.

“Snacks?” she asks with a little clap. Because yum!

“Red Vines,” Oliver answers, handing her the bag, “Skittles, and--”

“Clementines?” Felicity frowns down at the admittedly cute little orange spheres. “We don’t allow healthy snacks here at Smoak Tech, Oliver.” She’s mostly not kidding.

“That’s true,” Curtis interjects, still in that same uncharacteristically slow cadence because he’s focusing 98% of his attention on the biochip. “It’s all caffeine and sugar in here.”

Felicity sighs happily. With a sigh, Oliver fishes a clementine from the bag and holds it out to Felicity. “You _like_ clementines.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “I like Red Vines _more_ , though.”

A loud chime startles all three of them, and Curtis lets out a curse. He looks at Felicity with raised, slightly accusatory eyebrows.

“Sorry!” she cringes, grabbing Oliver’s arm and pulling him towards her computer setup. “I’m supposed to turn the alerts down when he’s got the tiny tools out,” she explains quietly to Oliver. Leaning over her keyboard, she quickly silences the alert

“It’s okay,” Curtis calls over to them. “I have steadier hands than I thought. All good.”

Felicity skims the results of her diagnostic program with a small frown. “Frak.”

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asks.

“Code drama,” she answers absently, focused on the problem. Because she and this particular section of code have been _in a fight_ for days, and she’d really thought she finally won. With a huff, Felicity drops into her chair and rolls closer, adjusting the keyboard minutely before diving into the re-coding. She really didn’t _want_ to have to try this particular type of fix, but since this part of the code is being a _complete jerk_ \--

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice barely registers until he says her name again. “Felicity?”

She glances up at him. “What’s the matter?”

He blinks, brow furrowed. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

She gives a little shake of her head to try to refocus on whatever he’s trying to talk to her about, even if he is interrupting her process. “What?”

“The alarm,” Oliver clarifies, gesturing towards her monitor. “What’s wrong with your code?”

“Do you really want me to explain that to you?” she snaps, then immediately feels bad. It’s not his fault this stupid code section is being so very stubborn. She apologizes with a brief squeeze of his hand, then turns back to the screen. Because she will not be out-stubborned by her own code!

“I just,” Oliver continues, and Felicity stiffens with irritation, “was wondering if I could do anything to help.”

Felicity stares up at him, waiting for his offer to make some sense. Which it _does not_. “Not really,” she says, somewhat loudly, “but thank you.”

Before she can turn back to the monitors, Oliver steps closer, running a soothing hand down her arm. “I don’t have anywhere to be today, so I can--”

“Oliver!” she interrupts in a voice that is edging towards _shout-y_. She takes a short, calming breath and tries again. “Oliver, I need to work on this right now. It’s not something you can help with."

In response to her dismissal, Oliver does that thing with his face where he thinks he’s hiding his pain behind stoicism but he actually looks like a sad, lost puppy. “Oh.” Nodding once, Oliver steps back and adds, “Okay.”

And now Felicity feels awful, even though he literally cannot help her do the things she’s trying to do. “Oliver, I appreciate the sentiment,” she tells him, reaching out her hand for his. She tangles their fingers together. “But this--” She hooks a thumb in the direction of the computer behind her-- “is kind of my thing. Just like arrowing people is yours.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “I’d like to think I do more than just put arrows in people.”

And finally, Felicity gets what this is -- he’s at loose ends. He has no one to go after as the Green Arrow until they can locate Darren McKnight, and he’s no longer mayor and able to work for the people of Star City in less... _medieval_ ways. She pushes to her feet and steps right into his personal space, taking his other hand in hers so they form their own little marital circle. “Hon, I know today is hard, because you’re used to City Hall and having things to do, but I _promise_ , once Curtis and I get this prototype finished, I will find you a bad guy to punch. Okay?”

Oliver leans in, kissing her softly. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll just...” he trails off, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows.

Felicity squeezes his hands. “Go pick up William and spend some time with your son,” she suggests. “I have all this work to do, and then we’re meeting with John and Lyla -- you and William should spend the afternoon doing father-son things.”

He considers it, a smile stealing across his face. “That’s a good idea.”

Felicity shrugs. “I’m pretty smart.”

“You are,” Oliver affirms, kissing her again. “Now go debug your code.”

Felicity steps back, smirking. “Yes, sir,” she answers playfully, her smile broadening at the heated look on his face. “Nope,” she cautions him, pointing at the door. “You’re leaving. Go, go, go.”

 

& & &

 

Wainwright dials the number from memory. He’s conversed with the Master so many times that it has become ingrained… a muscle memory for his fingertips against the phone screen. It rings once and then the line opens up.

“Yes?” the Master’s voice asks on the other end.

Wainwright enters his car, shuts and locks the door, and then speaks, eyes darting around to keep certain he hasn’t been followed. “You asked me to call with a progress report.”

“Yes,” the Master’s voice says with annoyance. “I am aware of what I asked for. So what’s the report?”

Wainwright gulps down a lump that has built up in his throat and then speaks confidently. “It appears that Quentin Lance will be a lot more cooperative than Queen.”

“Does he suspect you?”

Wainwright shrugs. “Does it matter? We’re so close to reaching our goal.”

The Master repeats himself. Slowly. “Does he suspect you?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

A silence falls on the other line. Not even a breath leaks through, and soon Wainwright wonders if the line has gone dead. Then the Master speaks again.

“Then we will move forward. I’ll alert the Court of Owls of this progress. You’ve done well.”

 

& & &

 

When John knocks on the door of the loft, he almost immediately hears the sound of Felicity’s heels rushing to let him in. He’s already smiling when she pulls the door open and says, “John, hi!”

“Hi, Felicity,” he greets.

She steps back and holds the door open for him. “Come in!” Then she looks past him and tilts her head. “Where’s Lyla?”

“Not back from Kasnia yet,” John answers, stepping towards the mismatched collection of work furniture and Oliver and Felicity’s old dining room set. He hasn’t been to the loft since it became Smoak Tech headquarters, and he’s not surprised to see the influx of color and chaos. He stops near the clear markerboard and turns back to Felicity. “Her team is hitching a ride on a military cargo plane, which got delayed a couple of hours. She should be landing in an hour or so. I was already in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d swing by and tell you in person.”

“Oh.” Felicity frowns momentarily, then shakes it off. “We can reschedule the encryption update, _but_ ,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement, “Curtis and I actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

“Hi, Dig!” Curtis offers from where he’s hunched over a workbench.

“Curtis,” John greets. He genuinely has no idea what to expect -- he can’t see a way his particular talents would at all align with Smoak Technologies, so it’s not a professional discussion. And while he and Felicity have been close friends for years, he can’t figure out a reason why she _and_ Curtis would want to have a conversation with him. He lifts his hands, ignoring the familiar tremor in his bad arm. “I’m not sure what this is about.”

Felicity reaches for his right hand and pauses. “May I?”

He knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the physical weakness in his arm, but he does anyway. Still, his trust in Felicity is unshakeable and he puts his hand into hers.

Felicity leads him over to Curtis’s workbench, and lays his arm down across it. “We think,” she announces, her eyes bright with excitement, “we may have something to help resolve the nerve damage in your arm.”

 _Resolve_? John stills, not letting himself feel any hope yet. “What do you mean.”

“She means,” Curtis says, straightening up and holding a small, glinting object aloft in his gloved hand, “this biochip is an improved version of what conveys messages around the damage in her spinal cord.”

“Plus,” Felicity interjects excitedly, “it’s running the latest version of my asymmetric encryption, so there’s virtually _no way_ it can be compromised.”

John shakes his head, trying to square what they’re saying with what the doctors have been telling him over and over again for nearly a year. “But the damage is permanent,” he points out.

“So’s mine,” Felicity counters with a knowing look. “Believe me, John, I understand the things you’re feeling right now, but your injury is enough like mine that we’re both confident this will work. There’s one scarred site that’s causing your nerves and muscles down here--” She taps his forearm gently, and John’s gaze catches on her dark purple nail polish-- “to miss messages from your brain, or get garbled, confusing messages from your brain. Curtis’s chip--"

“ _Our_ chip,” Curtis interjects pointedly.

Felicity gives her partner a grateful smile. “ _Our_ chip is designed to bridge that gap and let your brain and your nerves and muscles talk freely.” She beams at him. “Also, you’ll be kind of the pilot project for the Smoak Tech-ARGUS partnership. A walking prototype, just like me!”

John gives her a look. “Great,” he answers sardonically.

Then Felicity steps closer and looks up at him with earnest eyes. “John, I know you’ve been struggling with your injury, and while I’m excited because I really think this could help you, it’s your decision.”

He glances down at the familiar sight of her standing before him in brightly colored high heels and frowns. “Wait, if this is an improvement on your chip, shouldn’t it go to _you_?” he asks. “My injury isn’t nearly as severe.”

Felicity waves off his objection. “I’m not interested in another round of spinal surgery right now,” she says. “And I can upgrade the security in my biochip without removing it.”

John can’t help the instinctive wince. “You’re going to hack your biochip?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not hacking. It’s a simple software update.”

“So you’re telling me that you really think that little chip will restore the function I’ve lost?” he asks.

Felicity nods happily, her ponytail swaying. “I _really_ do.” Beside her, Curtis nods.

When Felicity was shot, John spent long hours in the hospital with her, and he heard a good number of the discussions she and Donna had with the specialists discussing her injury and her options. To see what Curtis’s biochip has done for her is astonishing. He’d be a fool to turn down the possibility of a similar outcome for his arm. Even if he never gets back to field-ready condition, he’d like to be able to hold his son without worrying he might lose his grip.

“Thank you,” he says, glancing at Curtis and then back to Felicity. “This is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.”

Felicity looks worried. “But?” she prompts, and John laughs.

“No buts,” he tells her, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s do this."

 

& & &

 

Lyla is disappointed to arrive home from her six-day trip to Kasnia to an empty apartment. Although she travels regularly for her work, Lyla misses her family desperately when she’s away.

Luckily, she has barely unpacked her small suitcase when John arrives with JJ. She greets them at the front door, sweeping JJ up into a big hug and then kissing her husband. “My favorite men.” She moves them to the couch, sitting down and putting JJ on her lap -- he’s excitedly recounting the events of the last few days. Johnny watches them with a small smile on his face, joining them once she lifts a hand in his direction.

It’s not until JJ scrambles down and runs for the stuffed giraffe his dad got him at the zoo that she and John have a moment to talk to each other. Lyla leans into him, kissing him slowly. “I missed you,” she murmurs, inhaling the warm, comforting scent of his aftershave.

Johnny nods. “I missed you, too.”

“Things were okay?” she asks, apprehension ringing clearly in her voice. She can’t help glancing down at his right hand. John’s drug use and hidden injury has been a sore spot for months. Even though he’s been clean for a while, she couldn’t help but worry that leaving him alone might be a window for some sort of relapse.

But her husband just smiles at her. He lifts his bad arm up, holding it between them. And it’s -- it’s _steady_.

“Johnny, what happened?” she asks, wanting badly to believe he’s improved, no matter what the specialists have been telling them.

“Felicity,” he explains. “She and Curtis made me a biochip like--”

“Like hers,” Lyla breathes, in awe of her friend’s capabilities. She takes her husband’s hand and squeezes it between her own. “How does it feel? Any pain?”

“No pain,” he answers. “Still a little weakness, but the tremor is almost entirely gone.”

Bringing his hand up to her face, she kisses his knuckles. “I’m so happy, Johnny.”

“Me, too.” This time, when he leans in, he kisses her more intently. She has, after all, been gone for five nights.

But they have a small child, who interrupts almost immediately with a cheerful shout. “Mama! Look at the giraffe!”

Chuckling, Lyla pulls back from her husband, but keeps tight hold of his hand even as she turns her attention their son, proudly holding a blue giraffe aloft. “Come tell me about the giraffe,” she tells him. “I have a little time before I need to meet Felicity.”

JJ’s face falls. “You’re leaving?” he asks, his voice tremulous.

Lyla winces, reaching for her son and urging him up onto the couch between her and John. “Just for a little bit,” she reassures him. “And not until you’re safe in bed, okay, little man?”

 

& & &

 

“You know we never did make it to the comic convention in Central City,” William remarks as they stroll through a mega comic book shop in the center of Star City. They’ve just gotten out of a movie and are on their last stop before heading home.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Oliver turns to his son, who’s browsing a display of Funko Pops. “Oh, man, buddy. I’m sorry. We’ll go next year.”

William picks up a Flash doll and examines it. “You promise?” HIs tone is even, but Oliver knows he wouldn’t have mentioned it if it didn’t bother him.

Oliver taps his son on the arm, waiting until he looks up to answer. “Definitely.”

After a moment, William nods his acceptance. His expression brightens as he looks around. “I’m glad this place stays open late. Do you think we could get ice cream, too? The shop next door should still be open.”

“I don’t know, buddy. It’s nearly ten,” Oliver reminds him. But he has almost as hard a time saying no to William as he does Felicity.

Before William can respond, a woman approaches. There are two teenagers trailing her reluctantly, looking embarrassed as she offers her hand.  “Mayor Queen!”

Oliver is too well-schooled to do anything but smile and take her hand, even if the title doesn’t belong to him any longer.

The woman sputters as she shakes it. “Oh, I’m sorry. Not mayor any more. Always putting my foot in it.”

Oliver smiles a bit harder, attempting to put her at ease in spite of the awkwardness of the moment.  “It’s very recent. Hard to keep up.”

The woman nods a bit too sympathetically. “You’ll always be mayor to me.”

“Quentin will do a fine job,” he answers diplomatically.

The woman takes that as her cue to usher her children to the register to pay for their items.

Oliver feels William watching him and turns to his son with a raised eyebrow and a curious look. William asks, “You miss being mayor, don’t you?”

Oliver sighs. His son can already read him so well. “Sometimes, but there’s a lot of ways I can help the city. In fact, this might be an opportunity--”

He’s interrupted when both of their phones erupt with text alerts. Very specific alerts -- the _Felicity SOS_ alert. Oliver takes a breath to counteract the sudden flood of adrenaline hitting his system. “We need to go. _Now_.”

 

& & &

 

It takes an eternity to reach the loft.

Oliver bursts out of the stairwell and into the hallway, and his breath hitches when he sees the open loft door. He remembers finding Thea bleeding out; he remembers Felicity bleeding in his arms outside that goddamn limo. “ _Felicity_!”

“Oliver,” John calls from inside the loft. Oliver can tell from the tension in his friend’s voice what he’s going to see when he reaches the door.

The interior of the loft is a mess, and there are five figures crumpled on the ground in the open area beyond the large kitchen island. Lyla and John are behind the island, surrounded by an appalling amount of debris, kneeling on either side of--

“Felicity!”

He sees her heels tumbled off to the side, her bare feet. There are splotches of blood on her shins, her poppy-covered skirt draped over her thighs. The rest of his view is blocked by John, and his mind supplies a thousand ugly, unthinkable possibilities. Oliver’s chest seizes up, and he’s at her side in moments, shoulder to shoulder with John.

Felicity is breathing, bleeding, and unconscious. With shaking hands, Oliver brushes hair back from her face, which is mostly unmarked, except a red welt across her cheekbone that looks like it’ll bruise. “Lyla?” His voice is shaking as badly as his hands.

“Probable concussion,” Lyla answers with her characteristic straightforwardness. “There’s a lot of shattered ceramic and knives on the ground where she was struggling, which is causing the bleeding. Her right ankle looks a little swollen to me. Ambulance is on its way.”

Nodding, Oliver lets out an unsteady breath, not even noticing the shards of ceramic digging into his shins. “Are you okay?” he asks Lyla, even if he can’t tear his panicked gaze from his injured wife. There are marks on her neck that look like they may darken into bruises.

“I’m fine,” Lyla answers.

John makes an irritable noise. “Lyla.”

“I am,” Lyla insists. “Just some cuts and bruises,” she elaborates. “Typical for a bad day in the gym or a good day in the field.”

Nodding his acknowledgment of that good news, Oliver leans closer to his wife. “Felicity,” Oliver murmurs. “Wake up, hon.” She doesn’t react to his voice. He scans her form again, more slowly, holding her left hand tightly. John has a dishtowel pressed to her forearm, and he can see some scratches and scrapes along her legs. Her blood loss is minimal, which leaves him primarily concerned about her head injury, her ankle, and, of course, the continued operation of the biochip in her spine.

When the loaded silence around him registers, Oliver glances up to find Lyla and John engaged in a wordless argument. Eyes narrowing, Oliver demands, “What aren’t you telling me?”

John meets Oliver’s gaze. “Black Siren and another man got away. Felicity seemed to be the target,” he explains.

“They had heavy weaponry,” Lyla adds, tipping her head to indicate the pile of automatic guns leaning against the refrigerator, “but they weren’t shooting.”

None of it is really a surprise, but the implications hit Oliver square in the gut. They got away; they’ll be back for Felicity. Or for-- “William,” he says, looking up to John. “He’s downstairs with Rene. Can you--?”

“Got it,” John answers, leaning into his own wife to press a quick kiss to her temple before he pushes to his feet. “I’ll send the EMTs up as soon as they arrive.”

“Thanks.” Oliver shifts closer to Felicity, ceramic shards crunching beneath his shoes and scraping along his shin. “How long has she been unconscious?” he asks.

Lyla glances at her phone. “Twelve minutes, maybe thirteen.”

Oliver fusses over Felicity, carefully brushing the detritus on the floor away from her, clearing bits of ceramic out from under her legs and arms, pressing a clean dish towel to her scrapes and cuts. “Lyla,” he says quietly, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

She gives him a tight smile and a nod, clearly uncomfortable with his gratitude. He could say more, but he knows he doesn’t have to -- he and Lyla have always understood each other

Oliver hears the ding of the elevator arriving on the third floor and exchanges a look with Lyla, who has her weapon in hand. Oliver scoops a knife from the floor and positions himself between the door and Felicity.

It’s the EMTs, with John, Rene, Dinah, and William at their heels. Lyla immediately stands down, but Oliver is reluctant to put down his makeshift weapon.

“Dad!” William darts around Rene and careens into Oliver’s side, staring wide-eyed down at Felicity. “Dad... Is she dead?” he whispers, his voice shaking.

“Hey, buddy, no.” Oliver lets the knife clatter to the floor, looping an arm around his son to tug him closer. “She got knocked out, but she’s going to be fine, okay?” It’s not a lie, because Oliver believes it with everything he has; he _needs_ it to be true.

William stares down at Felicity fearfully, and Oliver shifts back, reluctantly letting go of his wife’s hand. “William, hey, come here.” Oliver pulls William into a hug, feeling his heart break a little when his son clutches him hard. He knows this must be bringing back a lot of trauma about Samantha, and he’s not sure how to make any of this better for William.

The EMTs transfer Felicity to the stretcher and William winces. “It’s okay,” Oliver repeats, even if the sight of her unconscious body on a stretcher brings that awful December night to the forefront of his memory. The adrenaline flooding his system leaves him anxious and angry that she’s hurt. _Again_.

John moves out of the way of the EMTs and Felicity’s stretcher, and follows Oliver and William out of the loft and into the elevator. Lyla, Dinah, and Rene stay back to deal with the scene.

Oliver spends the elevator ride staring at his wife’s unconscious face, willing the heavy knot in his chest to ease, and comforting his trembling son. When they reach the lobby, John places a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “I can go with Felicity,” he offers with a pointed look down at William.

Oliver is torn, especially since the _last_ thing he wants is for Felicity to wake up in the emergency room without him again. But William is shaking, his expression a little vacant with shock, and Oliver knows John’s solution is the best one. “Keep an eye on my wife,” he tells John. “We’ll be right behind you.”

 

& & &

 

The jumbled noises slowly begin to resolve themselves as Felicity drifts toward consciousness. The indistinct hum of many nearby voices. Low electronic beeping. The rustle of fabric.

 _Hospital_ , her brain supplies.

She’s lying on a thin mattress, there’s a slightly scratchy blanket beneath her ams, and her nose wrinkles against the stale smell of disinfectant. Definitely a hospital.

Felicity groans as the rest of her senses come online, dominated by the throbbing pain in her head, and a dull ache in her cheek. She has the distinct impression that the room around her is bright lit, and that she will regret any attempts to open her eyes.

“Felicity?” It’s Oliver, his voice soft but edged with desperation, and it all comes rushing back in a confusing, panicky blur. Lyla at the loft, throwing knives at advancing figures, Black Siren.

Oliver tightens his grip on her hand, anchoring her to the present, and she squeezes reflexively. “Felicity.” This time, her name is a rush of relief. Her eyes blink open, finding Oliver leaning close to her, eyes warm and only slightly frenzied as he watches her.

“Hi,” she rasps, blinking rapidly against all the painfully bright fluorescent light in her curtained off portion of the emergency room.

“You’re okay, hon,” Oliver tells her, eyes worried but truthful. “You’re safe.”

“Lyla?” she asks, her voice a bit stronger now.

“She’s fine,” Oliver reassures her. “You were knocked out.”

“Felicity?” William asks from her other side, his voice thin and wavering a bit with fear.

Ignoring the flare of pain, Felicity turns her head, seeking out her stepson. He’s hovering nervously a step back from the bed, pale and drawn. The sight brings a sudden wave of anxiety and she reaches for him with her free hand, wincing as the IV in her arm pulls a little. “William, everything’s okay.”

He takes her hand, his palm clammy against hers. “You’re hurt,” he tells her. William shifts closer to the edge of her narrow bed, eyes wide and suspiciously bright.

She gives him what she really hopes is a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.” She’s pretty sure she’s right, even though her head _really_ hurts. She chances a glance at Oliver. “I am okay, right?”

His expression shutters, and she resigns herself to another round of _This Wasn’t Your Fault, Oliver_ in her future. “I hate that we’re back here again,” he answers, glancing around the emergency room, and Felicity tightens her grip on him.

She knows he means the shooting, but her memories of those long first weeks are mostly lost to the haze of pain and painkillers. Oliver, she knows, remembers his absence early on with shame, and the last thing she needs is for him to spiral right now.

“We’re not,” she argues. Off of his exasperated look, she huffs in irritation. “You know what I mean. This isn’t anything like that.”

“What are you talking about?” William asks, eyes narrowed as he looks between her and his father. “This isn’t anything like _what_?”

Felicity presses her lips together for a moment, at a bit of a loss. Because William is clearly upset, and while he knows the dry, clinical _a bad man shot me and hurt my spine_ version of the story, she really doesn’t think now is the time to explain how close she came to dying, and how near Oliver skated to the line as a result. “Um.”

Oliver clears his throat. “I don’t... always handle it well when Felicity gets hurt. I need you both to be _safe_.” It’s true enough, even if it’s the vaguest version possible.

William looks skeptical, but doesn’t push. Instead, he turns his attention back to Felicity, scanning her face with a little frown. “Does your cheek hurt?”

With a wince, she remembers hitting the polished cement floor of the loft. “It doesn’t feel _great_ ,” she hedges

“What about your ankle?” William asks.

“My ankle?” Felicity frowns down at her blanket covered limbs. “Which--?” But she’s already tried to move her right ankle, which was a _really_ bad idea. And, yeah, now that she’s paying attention, it’s definitely wrapped in a nice tight bandage. “Frak.” She glances at Oliver. “No painkillers?”

He gives her a sympathetic look. “Not until after your CT scan.” Felicity gives him the best pout she can manage, but Oliver simply leans in and kisses her softly. “I’m sorry, hon. They should be by to get you any minute.”

“It’s not your fault,” she tells him, hoping that maybe this time he’ll let himself believe it. “Now, I think you boys should entertain me until they take me away,” she says, gently tugging William closer, and releasing his hand to pat the mattress near her hip.

Gingerly, he leans against her bed. “Dad and I went to the comic place,” he begins, brightening a little. “You know the one downtown?”

 

& & &

 

It’s late by the time John makes it to Felicity’s room, tucked away in the highest security portion of the ARGUS field hospital. William has fallen asleep curled up on the pull-out visitor’s chair near the door. John moves quietly past the boy and the end of the half-extended privacy curtain to find Felicity -- _thankfully_ \-- awake and talking to Oliver in low tones.

The overhead light is off, the room’s occupants lit only by the dim fluorescent light mounted on the wall behind Felicity’s hospital bed. Oliver is on her far side, holding his wife’s hand and keeping a protective eye on his son and the door. He’s calmer than he was in the emergency room, though still hypervigilant in a way that makes John worry a bit about his mental state.

When John turns his attention to his injured friend, Felicity is nearly lost amidst the pillows and blankets in her hospital bed. There’s a bruise blossoming along her cheekbone, a bandage on her temple, a handful of bandages littering her arms, and her ankle is wrapped and propped up on a stack of pillows. The convertible bed has been shifted so she’s half-sitting, and she seems determinedly awake, even as she smiles tiredly at him. “Hi.”

John moves closer and leans down to kiss her forehead. “I hate seeing you in hospital beds.” She’s pale and drawn in a way that recalls those awful days after the shooting nearly two years ago, when she looked impossibly young with her face bare of makeup. He has never felt the age difference between them as acutely as he did that awful December.

“Not as much as I hate being in them,” she retorts. Her free hand migrates to her hair, pushing it back from her face. She tips her head in Oliver’s direction. “I tried to tell this one he could hover just as easily at home, but...” She shrugs. “They didn’t even give me the good drugs,” she complains.

Oliver barely manages to crack a smile. John can read the anxiety pouring off of his friend, but he keeps his focus on Felicity. “Concussion?” he prompts.

Her pout is much less effective when she’s in a faded blue hospital gown, but she tries it anyway. “Stupid Black Siren,” she says by way of an answer.

John nods slowly. “Quention mentioned she’s been avoiding his calls. Guess she’s made her choice.” Oliver shifts stiffly, but doesn’t comment. John points to the crutches leaning against the wall next to the window. “And those?”

“Sprained ankle.” Felicity sighs heartily. “I am _not_ going to be good at crutches.”

Oliver huffs a laugh, the first break John’s seen in his friend’s anxiety. “I can carry you,” Oliver offers, lifting the hand he’s holding so he can kiss her knuckles.

John waits a beat. “We should probably talk about some options.”

Felicity turns a suspicious look his way. “Options for _what_ , exactly?”

“Protection,” he answers. “For you and William.” Felicity is already shaking her head, but John touches her arm to request her patience and continues, “Lyla suggested that JJ, Zoe, and William be moved to the ARGUS safehouse, and I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yes, for the kids, absolutely,” Felicity agrees, struggling to keep her voice low. “But I am a grown woman, and--”

“You’re injured,” Oliver interrupts, his voice intense but quiet in deference to his sleeping son. “You’re going to have limited mobility, and you need rest and darkness and quiet for your concussion."

Felicity sits up a little more, wincing and bringing her free hand to her temple. “If you think I’m going to lay quietly in a dark room somewhere while you and John and the team fight Darren McKnight, you’re _crazy_.”

“Felicity,” Oliver counters, his voice low and earnest, “I would feel better if you were there, keeping the kids safe.”

“With all of my physical prowess?” she scoffs. “And _I_ won’t feel better not being able to do my job.”

“Felicity--”

“You have to trust me to know my own limitations,” she interjects, her tone fierce.

John nods. “You’re right, Felicity.”

Oliver shoots him a look of betrayal. “No, she’s not.”

Felicity’s face flushes with her temper. “I am almost _always_ right,” she tells him haughtily, her voice low and harsh, “and you know I have never been okay shying away from danger. Plus,” she adds, chin lifted in defiance, “You need me to find him in the first place.”

Leaning closer to his wife, Oliver smooths her hair back with his free hand. “Hon, can we fight about this tomorrow? You’re supposed to be resting.”

And just like that, Felicity slumps back into the pillows, her mouth tight with pain and tiredness. “I don’t want to fight about it at all,” she answers, her voice low and strained.

John recognizes that his presence is not helping matters, so he straightens up. “I’ll have Lyla get the safehouse ready. We can work out the details in the morning.”

Oliver nods tiredly. “Thanks, John.”

John gently squeezes Felicity’s free hand. “Rest that big brain of yours, okay, Felicity?”

 

& & &

 

The morning after the attack on Felicity and Lyla, Quentin is up at daybreak with heartburn -- tired and anxious and very angry.

Laurel has been ignoring his calls for days. Weeks, if he’s being honest, and while he has been trying to deny the sick feeling in his gut about what her radio silence could mean, he’s got proof, now, of her bad intentions. She attacked Felicity. Whatever he’s tried to get through to her, to connect with the nature of the woman who could be his daughter, it’s not working.

Before he even pours himself coffee, he calls her -- the burner phone he gave her when she refused to share her cell number. There were red flags with Laurel, of course there were. But Quentin has missed _his_ Laurel so much, and felt so much guilt about not being able to save her, that he was able to ignore the warning signs.

He supposes it’s less of a warning sign and more of a confirmation when she doesn’t answer his call.

Tapping his phone on the kitchen counter, Quentin thinks about _his_ Laurel, his bright, stubborn, beautiful little girl. He can’t remember much of her funeral -- even thinking about it makes his chest ache. He knows somewhere, deep down, that _this_ Laurel isn’t _his_ Laurel. He knows he’s not getting a true second chance to be a better father, but he’d assumed he could help her, at least a little. He’d _had_ to try.

Then he thinks about Felicity, the woman who could’ve been his stepdaughter, lying in a hospital somewhere because he’d insisted, over and over and over, that they needed to give _this_ Laurel the benefit of the doubt.

He calls her again, and this time it goes straight to voicemail.

Quentin closes his eyes and takes a breath when he hears the beep. “Laurel. We’re done. I’ve been holding out hope for you, that we could have some kind of relationship, that we could help each other be a little better. But last night -- you tried to kill Felicity Smoak.” His voice is shaking, so he takes an unsteady breath. “You and I may share DNA, Laurel -- I’m not sure how that works with multiple earths, but I love Felicity Smoak like a daughter, and you went after her, out of pure malice. I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, Laurel, I truly am. But I can’t keep pretending you’re anything like my real daughter. Goodbye, Laurel.”

His pulse is racing when he drops the phone to the counter with a clatter. Quentin presses his palms to the cool quartz and lets his head hang down for just a moment. He has a little trouble catching his breath through the pain in his chest.

Then he pushes himself back up. “Okay.”

 

& & &

 

The cabin is just as Darren remembers it, just with slightly more weather damage. Everything is as it was decades before when Robert brought him there. Their first trip together as the smattering of a found family the man was trying so hard to build. Moira had been so wary of the trip, convinced that something would happen. _She never fully trusted me, no matter how good I tried to be..._

The moment his feet hit the boards of the front porch, he can feel those old memories floating to the surface, so long stowed away to make his progression easier. The Talons made certain those old memories -- the good ones -- were nowhere to be found. Only the negative: hate, trauma, loss and neglect.

But here, on the porch, wind rustling through the trees and the distant trickling of the creek, the happy few years of his childhood are battering against his walls. For a moment he fights the barrage, out of habit. But then, as his hands fall onto the railing of the porch and trace the spots where he had climbed so long ago, he lets all of his reinforcements fall away and the memories assault him.

One by one they flicker into the forefront of his chaotic mind, like numbers of code keeping a computer alive. The only happy memories of his childhood he owns. The only positive experiences from his childhood, ruined by overwhelming jealousy and a family that couldn’t imagine loving two boys at once.

Darren growls out a groan, moves away from the railing and toward the front door.

The lock is different than he remembers it. _Oliver must have come here recently._ Irritation sparks up anew at the thought of the oldest remaining Queen changing the past. Then he shakes his head. _It is just a fucking lock. Not much else could possibly be changed..._

It takes him just a few seconds to pick the lock and he pushes the door open, relishing the familiar creak. It hasn’t changed, and something about that is comforting. _Oliver hasn’t rid this place of its charm yet._

Inside Darren finds the hallway and living room much the same. Old, rustic furnishings and wood flooring that shifts and groans with each step. He remembers himself sitting at the couch with Robert and discussing numbers and trends that should have gone well over his head. He remembers Moira placing fresh flowers on the coffee table and keeping things tidy. The memories flood his mind and each one pushes him forward into the living room and toward the mantle.

None of the photos he used to admire are there now. They are all images of the Queen parents with Oliver and Thea. Happy moments. Goofy moments. Everything Darren always wanted, had for a short time, and then lost. And then, as his eyes shift across the contents of the mantle, he finds newer photographs. Groups selfies of Oliver and the family he still possesses frolicking in the snow. Using the sleds. “My sled,” Darren hisses when he glimpses the red sled standing beside William. “Mine...”

Without much thought, just angry action, he grips the photograph and hurls it across the room to shatter against the wall, loud and cacophonous in the stillness.

He continues on through the rooms, noting changes... blemishes on the history the cabin represents. New bedding. New rugs beside each bed. A new shower curtain in the hall bathroom. When he reaches the basement door he frowns. The tell tale whirring of servers and complex computer systems travels up and through the crack in the door. He kicks the door in and slowly descends the stairs. Flickering lights fill the basement. Signals and security systems running even with the owners’ absence.

He’s learned enough about Oliver’s team to guess how to log in and it doesn’t take too long to switch the entire set-up on. Camera feeds show Team Arrow’s bunker, dull and empty. Lights off. Systems on but no movement.

Darren slams his hands against the desk. “No!”

It might be melodramatic. It might be absurd.

“So emotional, Darren,” his mentor used to say in training. “Channel the negativity, but never let it consume you.”

Little did they know, but his negativity had already consumed him. Everything in his past... every slight and dismissal. Big, small and everything in between. He channeled them until the darkness overtook him.

He takes his phone out and dials the number without thinking, eyes closed and heart thrumming steadily with frustration. His tongue glides over the false tooth, metallic and impossibly warm. A surge of strength and rage courses through his body as the chemical within responds to his touch. For so long he had refused its effects. But now, with so much on the line, he needs the boost it bestows upon him.

The ringing ends as someone takes the call at the other end, silent and ominous. “It seems we’ve lost the targets. Find them.”

He ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket. Darren opens his eyes and leaves the basement. He traverses the length of the cabin without any further admiration and exits, hand lingering for just a moment on the doorknob before closing the door on the last little bit of happiness he experienced in life.

 

& & &

 

The morning after Black Siren’s attack at the loft, the Michaels-Diggle clan, Rene and Zoe, and the Clayton-Smoak-Queen crew clamber out of their respective vehicles at the ARGUS safehouse, which is tucked discreetly away in the eastern suburbs. Lyla and John head right inside with JJ, and Rene and Zoe follow their cue.

Felicity, though, is cranky and wobbling on her crutches, and Oliver and William stay back to accommodate her. Just getting out of the car and upright is exhausting, and she accidentally puts weight on her bad foot, hissing in pain.

“You okay?” Oliver asks worriedly, peering around the trunk to make sure she hasn’t further injured herself before going back to wrangling William’s luggage.

“Yeah, I just need a minute.” She leans back against the hood of Oliver’s car to let the throbbing subside. Well, the throbbing in her ankle, anyway -- her poor, concussed head is still objecting to things like light and movement. But they have bigger problems than her headache and her injured ankle.

Felicity scans the purposefully boring tan house on this purposefully boring block of nearly identical houses, impressed by how well-chosen the safehouse is. While this neighborhood seems indistinguishable from a dozen others in the Star City area, this house is less than a quarter mile from ARGUS headquarters. Lyla hadn’t _quite_ admitted it, but Felicity is about 98% sure there’s a tunnel that leads directly from the safehouse to the ARGUS sublevels. If Felicity didn’t know the house’s ownership, if she weren’t _specifically looking_ for security measures, she may have missed the pin cameras positioned in the eaves and the laser perimeter fencing posts neatly incorporated into the garden.

There’s even an unidirectional speaker disguised as a satellite dish, to broadcast distress calls literally _at ARGUS,_ if all else fails.

Felicity could _probably_ do a little better, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

William doesn’t seem to think so; he stands beside her, arms crossed in defiance, and glares at the house. “I don’t want you guys to leave me here,” he complains.

Felicity can hear the fear underneath his teenage irritability, and wraps a careful arm around his shoulders. “It’s just for a couple of days, William.”

Duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Oliver rounds the hood of the car just as William loses his temper. “But you’re all gonna be _in danger_ while I’m stuck here!” He leans away from Felicity’s touch, which both hurts her feelings and nearly unbalances her, until she grabs for her crutch. “Sorry,” William says, chastened, and steadies her with a surprisingly strong hand on her elbow.

“William,” Oliver says, “I know this is hard, but--”

“It’s _always_ hard,” he interrupts, his cheeks flushed with anger. “My mom already _died_ , and all I have is you two, and now you’re gonna die, too.” There are tears in his eyes, which he swipes away angrily as he turns to stalk off.

“Hey,” Oliver objects, dropping William’s duffel bag to reach for his son. He touches William’s arm, but doesn’t restrain him, or force him to turn. William halts anyway, facing away, head down. Felicity can hear him sniffling. “William,” Oliver steps closer to the boy, “there’s nothing in my life that’s more important to me than you and Felicity.”

William looks up at his father shyly, but doesn’t turn all the way around.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Oliver reiterates, in that vow-making tone of his. “I have been doing this a long time, and I haven’t always been as careful as I should be.”

Felicity can’t help the scoffing noise she makes in reaction to _that_ wild understatement.

“I promise you, William,” Oliver continues, holding his son’s gaze with a quiet intensity, “there is nothing I want more than to come home safe, every day, and be your father.” He spares Felicity a quick smile. “And Felicity’s husband. I know what I’m fighting for, William, and it’s this life I never imagined I’d earn, with my family.”

William’s crying a little now, even though he’s trying really hard to stop. He nods jerkily, and Oliver pulls him closer, encasing him in a hug. “I know you’re scared,” Oliver murmurs. “It’s okay to be scared. I just need you to be safe here, so I can help take down Darren McKnight, and we can go home. Together. As a family.”

Now Felicity’s crying, too, and the only reason she hasn’t hurled herself at Oliver yet is that she will almost certainly lose her balance and end up crashing into the front lawn. Stupid sprained ankle.

“Okay,” William says, his voice wet with tears. He’s got his arms around Oliver and is holding on for dear life.

“Okay,” Oliver echoes his son. He glances over and holds out his free hand for her. She takes a breath for luck, then abandons the stabilizing car frame and crutches awkwardly over to her family. “Let’s go check this place out.”

They make their halting way up the front walk, and to her credit, Felicity only almosts tips over _twice_.

 

& & &

 

It’s far from the first time they’ve had sex in the bunker, but tonight, when Felicity and Oliver make love, it’s slow and quiet. Gentle, even, in deference to her injuries. But she needs the reconnection with Oliver too much to let her lingering concussion-headache get in the way of life-affirming sex.

Even if it is in the slightly dank, _definitely_ depressing room where Oliver had lived for several months after their breakup. Even if they are tangled together in a too-small bed -- feeling his heartbeat against her is the reassurance she needs.

“I love you,” Oliver whispers into her collarbone, his breathing already back to normal after their -- admittedly mild -- exertions. “I need you to be safe.”

Felicity sighs, and tightens her arms around her impossible husband. “We’ve had this argument too many times before, Oliver.” Her skin is still flushed with pleasure, and she feels loose-limbed and satisfied -- the last thing she wants to do right now is argue with him. But he’s nearly as stubborn as she is, so she knows they’re going to have to hash this out.

“You’re _injured_ ,” he protests, and she can hear the pain in his voice. He has never been able to handle the people he loves being hurt. “You need rest and quiet and _safety_.” He tucks his hand beneath her waist, holding her just a little more tightly.

“I’m not going to the safehouse,” she tells him, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. She really doesn’t want this to escalate the way their arguments tend to do. “I need to help the team, and I need to work on Smoak Tech. I can’t just drop out of sight indefinitely.”

“Not indefinitely,” Oliver says, latching onto that to try to get her to agree to hiding. “The doctors said you need to stay off your ankle completely for at least two weeks, and your concussion--”

“I took the day off from screens,” she interrupts, somewhat grumpy at the reminder of this Long Terrible Day Without the Internet. “You still have my phone.” If her tone is a little accusatory, honestly, who can blame her?

“I know.” He tilts his head up, kissing her jaw in apology, shifting his warm body against her. “But you still have a headache.”

“How do you know that?” she wonders, raising a hand absently to rub that annoying spot above her right eye that still aches.

“You’ve been pressing your fingers into the center of your forehead, which means your head hurts.”

She very deliberately lowers her arm, laying her palm on his bicep. “Yes. Okay. But I was concussed -- a headache is just part of the whole--” She lifts a hand from his warm skin to flail it about in search of the word she wants.

“A symptom of your injury?” he offers.

Huffing in exasperation, Felicity squirms in his grasp, shifting so that they’re lying face to face in this absurdly small bed. “Oliver. My love. _Please_ listen to me.” She brings a hand to his face, cupping his cheek and running her thumb against his scruff. “All that stuff you told William today about fighting to come home to your family? It’s the same for me.”

Oliver nods, lips pressed tightly together, eyes suspiciously bright.

“I want this life with you more than anything,” she continues. “But I can’t sit on the sidelines when things gets hard. That’s never been me.”

He gives a breathy little laugh, nodding against the pillow. “That’s true.”

“I promise you that I’ll be careful,” she says. “I’ll be as quiet as I can -- which, yes, isn’t _particularly_ quiet -- and I’ll stay off my ankle and I’ll go work at Curtis’s place tomorrow. I’ll do everything I can to stay safe during whatever’s coming. But, Oliver, you can’t wrap me in cotton and stick me in a box every time things get hard.” Then she frowns. “That sounded more serial killer-y than I intended it to.”

“I know what you meant,” he admits, holding her gaze steadily. “And I know I can’t protect you by putting you in a box.”

“Or a safehouse,” she adds pointedly. “Where we agreed our son should be.” She lifts a challenging eyebrow at him, but Oliver simply nods his agreement. She lets out a relieved breath. “This is the life we chose,” she says with a little shrug. “It’s really busy and legally dicey and, sometimes, it’s dangerous. But I need you to respect my choices.”

“I do,” Oliver insists, his tone fierce.

She lets herself melt against him. “I know all of this comes from a good place, Oliver,” she tells him. “I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I already do.”

 

& & &

 

In the middle of a non-descript house surrounded with thick trees on a street filled with houses that differ only in varying shades of beige and olive paint, William, Zoe, Raisa and JJ hide out—on the orders of the people who love them most.  

“This is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” Zoe grouses as she and William play their third game of checkers on the floor of the ARGUS sanctioned safe house. Morning wasn’t so bad, but now that their confinement has dragged into the afternoon, the kids are getting restless. Except JJ, who’s happily cuddling into his fire-engine-shaped pillow in the next room for nap time.

“How long do we have to stay here again?” William grumbles to Raisa who is visible beyond the breakfast bar as she prepares a snack. The kids aren’t allowed to go to school, something they normally would not have complained about, if say, they’d been allowed to go to the movies or the new VR center downtown.

William’s stomach growls just as Raisa lays four freshly made mini-pizzas in front of them. William’s eyes go wide. “I definitely know where dad gets it.”

“What’s that, Mr. William?” Raisa asks, brow quirked, smile even and serene.

“The bribery through healthy food disguised as something incredibly delicious.”

Raisa’s smile broadens. “I would never bribe anyone.”

“The pizza’s really good, Raisa,” Zoe says through a mouthful of cheesy deliciousness. “Thanks."

Raisa starts to move out of the room. “I’m going to check on, Mr. JJ.”

When she’s gone, Zoe whines, “I’m so bored.”

William nods his agreement. She’s right. It’s boring. There’s nothing to hold their attention, and their parents are out there, in danger. They could be hurt or worse, or— “What’s wrong?” Zoe studies him, eyes flickering with concern.

“It’s just...” He shrugs. “Don’t you want to do something more than just sit around here?”

“Of course I do,” she answers, frustration in her voice. “But what can we do?

William pushes his half-eaten pizza around on his plate. “I think we should be out there helping,” he admits quietly. “This is our city, too.”

“Right, but our parents are, like, _trained_ ,” Zoe points out. “Plus we can’t really get out of here. We’re under ARGUS protection.”

A light snaps on in William’s head. They could try to do something useful -- something to prepare themselves to be a help instead of a hindrance. “Do you wanna?” he suggests, brightening. “Train,” he clarifies. “We can tell Raisa we’re rehearsing for a talent show or something.”

Zoe looks excited about the idea, then deflates. “We don’t have any gear.”

“We should scope the place out,” William suggests, eyes sweeping the room. “See what there is we can use to practice with?”

With a grin, Zoe saunters over to the entryway and holds a walking stick aloft. “Something like this?”

“Yes!” William grins at his friend. “Let’s do it.”

 

& & &

 

Just before two p.m., In the empty director’s office at ARGUS, a red light flashes, accompanied by the ringing of a telephone. Its pitch is loud and high, more insistent than a typical ring.

It keeps ringing and flashing for just over 75 seconds before Lyla appears in the doorway, eyes wide, and lunges for it.

 

& & &

 

Dinah has her police scanner turned down to a reasonable volume, and nearly misses the call.

“ _Dispatch, this is Unit 839 on patrol, responding to some kind of disturbance at 5210 Rosewood Way_.”

She wrenches the volume up and grabs her phone.

 

& & &

 

In Curtis’s dining room, which is the temporary headquarters for Smoak Technologies, Felicity sways absently in her seat. She’s got Beyonce turned up, her cellphone ringer turned down, and two separate programming sessions going. It’s less efficient to switch between Curtis’s laptop and her own, but Oliver has refused to let her into the bunker until she’s forty-eight hours away from the Black Siren-induced concussion.

She’s using her lack of mobility and her bunker banishment as an opportunity to work on the upgrade of her biochip. But she was feeling too guilty to focus exclusively on herself while Darren McKnight is still out in the world causing chaos, so she started going back through her searches, looking for ways to fine tune them.

Felicity leans closer, studying the lines of code on the screen, not noticing the notification lighting up the screen of the cell phone lying on the table beside her large mug of coffee.

 

& & &

 

In the bunker, Oliver, John, Curtis, and Rene are sparring with escrima sticks. Well, Curtis is taking a hydration break. On the mats, Rene is frustrated, swearing, and unable to fend off the other two men. John is pulling his attacks; Oliver has never been one to dial down his intensity for training.

Everything comes to a halt when Felicity’s computers begin to chirp, followed quickly by their cell phones ringing.

“Proximity alarms,” John shouts, bolting for the computers. “There’s a perimeter breach.”

Oliver wrenches his bow and quiver from the worktable. “The safehouse?” he demands, his voice very loud and very scared. He already knows the answer to his question.

The Master is coming for his family.

John confirms, and there’s no time for changing into their gear. There’s no time for _anything_. They just need to _go_.

 

 

**END PART ONE**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Reckoning, Part Two will be posted tomorrow!


	16. The Reckoning, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Reckoning, Part Two" by arrow_through_my_writers_block, MachaSWicket, OlicitySmoaky
> 
> Beta'd by Ilse - many thanks to Ilse for the time-crunch work on this; all remaining errors are ours!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Content Warning** : Graphic violence.

 

 

In the open space between the couch and the TV, William and Zoe spar, umbrella to walking stick. It’s harder than it looks, particularly the umbrella, which William struggles to control. Their faces are serious as they block and attack each other, even if their movements are uncoordinated and unpracticed. 

“I don’t really want to be a superhero, you know?” Zoe says.

“I don’t either,” William admits, “but I’d do it if the city needed us.”

“Same.” They keep sparring clumsily, sweat beading from their brows until William decides to lighten the mood by slipping into a bad pirate accent. “You’ll never get me buried treasure, lassy!”

Zoe laughs really hard and William follows suit. Soon, they’re both laughing so hard that they can no longer keep up the sparring. One after another, they collapse to the floor, backs against the wall, to catch their breath.

William is tapping the umbrella in his grip against the toe of his sneaker when Zoe announces, “I’m bored. Can’t we pull up some games on that laptop they gave us?”

Yes. Games. Something he’s actually good at. “Yeah, I think so.” 

They head down the hallway and find Raisa singing to JJ while he dances to the beat in his little kid way -- at least until he notices them. JJ hops up and runs to William and Zoe. He hugs them both, one leg each, grinning up between them.

“Hey Raisa, can we borrow the laptop?” William looks down at JJ, who giggles. “Or actually, do you want to watch a movie, JJ?” He looks over at Zoe, who nods her approval at the change of plans. 

“Yeah! _Despicable Me_!”

They’re halfway down the hall towards the living room when the lights cut out. There’s a cacophonous crash, like someone just smashed through the dining room windows.

JJ gives a scared cry, his hands clutching the fabric of William’s jeans.

Raisa shouts, “Get behind me! Safe room!”

William sweeps JJ up and tries to hand him to Zoe. “Hide in the room,” he says, trying to herd them all backwards towards the hall.

“Yeah, right.” Zoe slips around William and lunges for the walking stick. “Hide, Raisa. We can—”

“No,” Raisa argues, even as she accepts a crying JJ from William. “You must come!”

“Raisa, go!”

Sheltering JJ in her arms, Raisa runs down the hallway towards the safe room, calling out for the kids to follow her. Instead, with one shared, terrified glance, they resolve to stand up to the intruders, armed only with the umbrella and the walking stick they’d been sparring with earlier.

“Oh, shit,” William whispers when he sees two intruders dressed all in black. They’re not holding guns or knives or anything, but they’re nearly as big as Uncle Diggle. Fear and panic take over, and William swings the umbrella in his hand wildly, clipping the nearer figure, who lets out a low grunt.

The lopsided fight is over almost immediately, the intruders wrenching Zoe and William’s makeshift weapons away. Still, the kids fight back. William grabs a cheap vase and hurls it at the closest goon. Zoe picks up a decorative plate and throws it at the masked person. It hardly deflects the intruder.

William stabs a pair of tongs at the man closest to him, but the masked man simply flicks the flimsy weapon aside and reaches for William. But Zoe has grabbed the fire extinguisher, and shoots a cloud of fire suppressant chemicals at the intruders. Briefly, both men stumble back, coughing.

Zoe grabs William and they run for the hallway. Before they can make it to Raisa and JJ and the safe room, the front door bursts open behind them. William glances back and sees a menacing figure, big and backlit by the daylight streaming in the doorway.

It’s him. The guy their parents are after.

William can feel the chill of this realization in his bones -- he was scared as soon as those guys broke in, but now he’s truly _terrified_.

Raisa and JJ are locked securely in the safe room, so he pushes Zoe towards the room across the hall, wanting to at least lead the masked intruders away from the others. They slam the door closed and wedge a chair under the doorknob. It’s a small bedroom with two twin beds, and he eyes the closet speculatively, then considers trying to jump out the window. Zoe tugs him to the far side of the room, crouching down and pushing the bed away from the wall a little bit so they can hide behind the headboard.

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_

Then a projected voice booms. “Step away from the door!” A series of loud crashes fill the next room as William and Zoe huddle together.  

Desperately, William glances around for a weapon, or some kind of escape, and notices what looks like a small crack in the wall that had been hidden by the headboard. He leans closer, fingertips scrabbling along the crack until he hits a tiny, depressed button.

“It’s a door,” Zoe realizes as a section of the wall swings open a few inches. She pushes at it and squints into the darkness beyond. “Come on!”

William peers skeptically into the abyss, and spots what _might_ be a very dim light -- it’s either very small or very far down what appears to be a tunnel. The idea of stepping into the unknown is almost as terrifying as staying put, until the Master breaks down the door to this spare bedroom. He remembers that his dad was scared enough of the Master coming after William that he stashed him in what was supposed to be a safehouse. And nothing good will come of it if the Master catches them now.

Reaching for Zoe’s hand, William says, “Yeah, okay.”

They pile into the mouth of the tunnel, trying to tug the bed back into place behind them. William and Zoe cling to each other and take hesitant steps towards the light in the distance, jumping in fright when they hear Lyla’s voice over some sort of comm system. “Keep moving straight ahead,” Lyla says, “I know it’s dark, but keep moving as quickly as you can. I’ll be right at the end of the tunnel. It’s only about a quarter mile.”

“Did I mention Lyla was bad ass? Because she’s _so_ badass,” Zoe whispers, a tremor in her voice as they move down the dank corridor to safety.

 

& & &

 

Across the street from the safe house, Teyanna Sloan has abandoned her trig homework and is watching the strange happenings involving the house across from hers.

She retreated into the house when she saw what appeared to be burglars casing the place, because she’s not about to get in the middle of a property crime, and as far as she knows, that house has been empty for at least a couple of months. Still, she called the cops, but hung up without giving her name.

The whole thing appears to be over in a few minutes when the burglars leave empty-handed. Teyanna snaps a picture of the car they pile into, just in case, and turns reluctantly back to her homework.

Barely a minute passes as she tries to focus on her trigonometry homework, when a van screeches up to the front curb and four guys pour out. Teyanna reflexively hits record on her phone, because what the hell is this?

“Oh, shit,” she mutters, eyes widening as she recognizes the white dude. “Is that the _mayor_?” There are a bunch of arrows in a quiver on his back, and he’s carrying what sure as hell looks like the Green Arrow’s bow.

Stunned, Teyanna zooms in as the four men approach the house tactically, like cops or superheroes do in movies. The whole thing is bizarre, but the craziest of all has got to be the fact that Mayor Queen is the Green Arrow.

When they rush into the house, Teyanna stops recording and plays it back. She takes a screenshot of what is _clearly_ Oliver Queen holding a bow and posts it to her twitter account with the hashtags _#MayorHandsome_ , _#GreenArrow_ , and _#YourMayorCouldNever_.

Her tweet doesn’t go viral for a few hours, but when it does...

 

& & &

 

When Oliver, John, Rene, and Curtis arrive at the safehouse they’ve got earpieces in, but haven’t been able to raise Felicity. Not knowing she’s okay feeds vicious worries that Oliver can’t quite shake, even as they note the smashed windows at the safehouse that prove his son is in danger, too.

Oliver and John share a terrified look, and signal Rene and Curtis to fall back as they approach the front door. Inside, there’s a clear sign of a struggle, and the eerie, abandoned kind of quiet that raises Oliver’s hackles.

His fear for his family is nearly paralyzing, and he leans one hand against the wall and takes a deep breath through the tightness in his chest. It doesn’t help, but he pushes it away. With a quick glance at John, whose mouth is tight with tension, they begin a methodical sweep of the safehouse. Behind them, Curtis and a stunned and silent Rene head down the hall for the safe room.

John’s phone buzzes, and Oliver pauses, looking over at him curiously. “Lyla has eyes on William and Zoe,” John says.

Oliver sways slightly with the flood of relief he feels. “Okay,” he manages. “Raisa and--?”

“ _Raisa and JJ are in the safe room_ ,” Curtis reports over comms, and John lets out a relieved breath. They haven’t cleared the house, so neither of them are comfortable letting down their guards yet.

If this attack was the Master -- and Oliver _knows_ it was him or his minions -- he needs to understand why all four people who were in the safehouse have apparently evaded capture. The dark part of his brain that has saved him a dozen times over has started suggesting some terrible things. Like this was a distraction for a second attempt on Felicity’s life.

If that’s true, most of the team’s here, and Dinah and Quentin are at SCPD.

No one’s with Felicity, and she’s incommunicado.

His anxiety escalates. “Where’s Lyla?” Oliver asks John, his question echoed by Rene over comms. “And what does _eyes on_ mean?”

John gives Oliver a disgruntled look. “Apparently, there’s a tunnel,” he says, hooking a thumb in the general direction of the building containing ARGUS headquarters, a quarter mile to the south, southwest of here as the crow flies. John clearly has more to say on that topic, but Curtis and Rene reappear with Raisa, who has JJ in her arms. When JJ sees his father he starts to cry, reaching for John with insistent little hands.

“You’re okay, little man,” John soothes, sweeping his son up and hugging him close. His eyes drop closed for a moment.

Oliver is relieved that JJ is okay, but he really needs to see William with his own two eyes before he’ll be able to calm down. “Mr. Oliver,” Raisa says, sorrow and fear in her voice, “they wouldn’t listen to me--”

“They’re okay,” he reassures her, pulling her in for a quick hug. “Lyla has them.”

Raisa glances pointedly down at the bow in his hand. “Well, go get the kids, Mr. Green Arrow.”

That surprises a smile out of him, and he nods. “Yes, ma’am. Rene and Curtis are going to take you to the,” he hesitates minutely, then gives a shrug, “bunker.”

His need to collect William and go find Felicity is building to an intolerable buzz under his skin, and he starts down the hallway, glancing into each room in search of access to the ARGUS tunnel. In the second bedroom, the twin bedroom furthest from the door is pulled away from the wall at a bit of an angle, and he leaps over the foot of the bed to get a better look. “Dig!”

John appears in the doorway, still holding JJ tight. He sees the small opening and nods, resolve on his face. “JJ, I need you to go with Raisa for a little bit, okay?” JJ protests, crying and clutching his father’s shirt, but John gently hands the boy over to Raisa.

Oliver catches Rene’s eyes. “I need you to go with them.” Before Rene can protest, Oliver holds up a hand. “I will protect Zoe. I promise. I need you to protect JJ and Raisa, and,” he adds with a loaded look, “I need you to find Felicity.”

Rene is clearly torn, but gives a reluctant nod.

Oliver turns back to the tunnel and crouches down to push through the small opening. It’s tall enough for him to stand inside, and he pauses to activate a chemlight while John clambers into the tunnel to join him.

They head down the long, dark tunnel, moving in a quick jog.

 

& & &

 

Reaching the end of a _truly_ lyrical bit of coding, Felicity gives a little hum of satisfaction and reaches for her coffee mug. And sees her phone screen showing -- _Frak!_ \-- multiple notifications in the past ten minutes. Adrenaline floods her system and she reflexively stands up, forgetting about her _stupid_ sprained ankle until pain echoes up her leg. “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” she chants, unlocking her phone with shaking hands to see-- “Oh, _frak!_ ” 

Heart pounding, she drops back into her seat and reaches for the keyboard. In moments, she has her laptop RDP’d into the bunker system, and has patched herself into the comms. “I’m here!” she near-yells, turning her attention to hacking into all the ARGUS camera feeds at the safehouse. “Guys?”

It’s Curtis who answers. “ _Overwatch, finally!_ ”

“Sitrep!” she demands, refusing to panic just because it’s not her husband on the other end of the line. “Who has eyes on the littles?” She never imagined she’d need code names for her stepson and the other kids, but here she is trying to come up with something on the fly.

“ _Wild Dog and I have Raisa and JJ. We’re en route to the bunker,_ ” Curtis answers, the words coming faster now. “ _Spartan and Green Arrow headed into the tunnel to HQ._ ”

Felicity blinks. “I _knew_ there was a tunnel,” she says, then shakes it off. “Where are the other two littles?”

“ _They went into tunnel, and I think they reached Lyla_ ,” he answers. “ _Should we go back?_ ”

This, Felicity realizes, is a _really_ sucky way to get an object lesson on tough decisions when your loved ones are the ones in immediate danger. She wants to order them to _go save William and Oliver_ , but she knows they need to protect JJ and Raisa. “No,” she decides, hacking her way further into the ARGUS system until she finds Lyla’s encrypted phone. “Get them to the bunker.”

Felicity mutes her Team Arrow comms and sends an alert to Lyla’s phone moments before she turns it into a speakerphone. “Lyla!”

“ _Felicity!_ ” It’s William’s voice. 

Felicity slumps a little against the worktable. She has honestly never felt more relieved in her life -- Lyla is one hell of bodyguard for her stepson. “Oh, thank god. Is Zoe with you?”

“ _I’m fine,_ ” Zoe answers, and Felicity lets herself smile. Raisa and all three kids are safe.

There’s a rustling noise and Lyla speaks. “ _Felicity, did the team get Raisa and JJ?”_

Felicity recognizes the sheer panic in Lyla’s voice and answers quickly, “Yes, Curtis and Rene have them. They’re clear.”

“ _Good. Okay. Good._ ” A beat, then Lyla is all calm competency in a crisis, _“I sent a team to the safehouse and sealed the tunnel from this end once the kids got through._ ”

Felicity’s chest tightens. “Oliver and John are in the tunnel and I can’t get through to them. The comms aren’t working. Can you reopen it?” 

She can hear hurried footsteps and the rustle of movement on the other end of the line. “ _The tunnel has signal scramblers inside, you won’t be able to reach them_. _And, no -- the door is a failsafe. It’s thicker than a bank vault, and sealed shut with molten metal that’s already cooled in place. Plus, there’s a controlled explosion that creates a rockfall on the other side of the door._ ”

Chewing her lip, Felicity considers this information. “Okay. So they’ll reach the rockfall and turn back.” It’s not the worst thing -- she’ll just need to be patient. Which is totally a thing she can be.

Except she has a really bad feeling about John and Oliver cut off and traversing a secret ARGUS tunnel even before she sees movement on the surveillance footage of the safehouse. Holding her breath, she leans forward and peers at the monitor, where the motion that caught her attention resolves into two figures. Three.  “No, no, no,” she says, controlling the cameras to get a better look.

“ _What?_ ” Lyla asks, the same knowing dread in her voice that Felicity feels in her bones.

“Is your team four guys wearing balaclavas by any chance?” Felicity asks, her voice a panicky whisper.

" _No._ ” When Felicity doesn’t immediately respond, Lyla gets it. “ _F_ _our guys just went after Johnny and Oliver, didn’t they?_ ”

Felicity throat closes up, but she forces the words out. “They’re trapped. Lyla, what are going to do?”

 

& & &

 

Oliver and John reach the ARGUS end of the tunnel quickly, and find -- a pile of rocks.

Holding the chemlight aloft, John steps closer, searching for any possible entrance to ARGUS. There’s dust hanging in the air, clearly the result of tumbling rocks. John turns to Oliver with a sigh. “It’s a failsafe. To protect ARGUS.”

“The door’s behind all this.” Oliver steps closer, shifting the chemlight around to try to see where the entrance _was_ . He knows it’ll be faster to jog back to the safehouse and drive over than to try to move hundreds of pounds of rocks out of the way, but dammit, his son is _so close_ and Oliver is barely able to tamp down the urge to fire an explosive rock into the rubble.

Pulling out his phone, he swears under his breath. “No service.”

“Cellphone cage,” John surmises, holding up his signal-less phone. “I really wish all these security measures weren’t being employed against _us_ right now.”

Oliver is twitchy to move, to see his son, to get out of this dark space. Then, the barest hint of a sound registers, and Oliver goes still, head cocked, gaze trained down the empty expanse of tunnel they traversed to get here.

 _There_.

The faintest sound of a footfall in the distance, far outside the small arc of his chemlight. Oliver glances at John, then hurls the chemlight as far as he can down the alley. It leaves them in sudden darkness, but whoever’s advancing on them is startled enough to make a bit of an audible noise.

That’s all the confirmation Oliver and John need to shift into defensive mode. They take up positions on opposite sides of the small tunnel -- it’s not great strategically, since the tunnel isn’t really wide enough to let them create much crossfire. But there’s no way to reach Felicity or Lyla for help, and they sent their backup away before heading into this godforsaken tunnel, so it’s their best option, considering they’re trapped

If they’re far outnumbered, this isn’t going to end well.

With the wall at his left shoulder, Oliver draws an arrow and nocks it. He inhales, closes his eyes, and concentrates. The bowstring rests against his lips for a few long moments, until he hears _something_. He lets the arrow go on an exhale, and hears a satisfying grunt when it flies true.

“Damn,” John mutters, impressed.

Oliver already has another arrow out and nocked, but there’s a strange buzzing, then an arc of sparks from above the rockfall at their backs, like a generator blowing out. He’s learned over the years to be calm in the face of long odds, and to think strategically when most others would panic, but if they’re going to be trapped from both sides, this will be over quicker than it starts.

Abruptly, his phone buzzes against his chest, where it’s tucked into his jacket pocket. Then, a tinny voice-- “ _Oliver? Stay close to the ARGUS end of the tunnel_.”

Relief hits him hard. “Got it, Overwatch.” He inches closer to the rock pile. “Dig?”

“I heard,” John answers, crouching against the rocks, gun still out and steadily aimed down the tunnel.

And... nothing happens.

Oliver waits a few moments longer. “Overwatch--?”

Twenty feet down the tunnel, there’s an explosion. Oliver and John turn away, pelted a bit with detritus as the ceiling of the tunnel tumbles down along with the soil and grass above it, creating a defensive barrier between them and whoever followed them from safehouse. They are unexpectedly bathed in sudden daylight from above.

“ _Did it work?_ ” Felicity’s tinny voice asks. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

“We’re okay,” Oliver answers quietly, blinking against the light until his eyes adjust. Keeping low, he moves towards their new exit, John at his flank.

A rope tumbles down into the tunnel, and a familiar face appears, looking down at them with visible relief.

“Lyla,” John greets his wife, his free hand pressed to his chest. “I like your style.”

“Actually,” Lyla says with a grin, “We didn’t have a lot of time, so Felicity over-pressured the gas line.”

Oliver huffs a laugh, letting John scramble up the rope to the ground above first. “She does have a troubling affinity for blowing things up.”

 

& & &

 

“Oh, thank God.” Dinah slumps against the wall of the City Hall elevator as soon as the doors close. Her system is flooded with adrenaline, even though she was unable to join Team Arrow’s rescue mission at the ARGUS safehouse since she’s on duty. She’s learned that it’s far more stressful to have to watch from afar -- she would always prefer to jump in and affect the outcome directly.

The elevator dings its arrival on the third floor, and Dinah steps out, still moving quickly so she can update Quentin -- _Mayor Lance_ \-- on McKnight’s attack. And Felicity’s smart but definitely illegal use of city infrastructure to save Oliver and Diggle. Waving to his assistant, she raps lightly on the doorframe and looks through the open door.

Inside, Quentin is working at the large desk that is lit by a beam of afternoon sun. He glances up at her, then pauses, brow furrowing. “What happened?”

“McKnight and his cronies hit the ARGUS safehouse,” she explains, reaching his desk. Quentin lurches to his feet, but she lifts a hand to stay his panic. “Everyone’s okay -- the team got the kids and Raisa out safely.”

Quentin presses his palm to his chest and exhales. “He went after the _kids_?” he asks incredulously, his voice shaking.

Dinah shares his anger. “Seems like.”

“Was Laur-- was _Black Siren_ there?” Quentin asks, then frowns, leaning heavily on his desk in a way that sets alarm bells ringing in Dinah’s head.

“Quentin?” She steps closer, taking in details that she missed before -- he looks pale and a little sweaty. He’s also breathing a little too fast, but she can’t tell if it’s anger or something more.

Predictably, Quentin manages to wave off her concern. “I’m fine. Was she there?” 

“I don’t think so,” Dinah answers, rounding the edge of his desk, because he can’t quite seem to catch his breath and now, she’s seriously concerned. She loops an arm around Quentin’s shoulders. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” she suggests, trying to ease him into the leather executive chair.

But Quentin groans, listing even further sideways, and Dinah just barely manages to keep him upright. “Quentin!” She maneuvers him into his seat, and when she leans him back, he’s watching her with wide, panicky eyes. She’s close to panicking herself, but knows she needs to hold it together for him. “Okay,” she tells him. “Quentin, try to breathe slowly.”

He gives her a jerky nod, but he’s pressing his hand hard against his chest and wheezes out a word. “Hurts.”

Dinah turns her head, trying to see if his assistant is at her desk. “Lucia!” she shouts. “Call an ambulance!”

Then Dinah turns back to Quentin, meeting his scared gaze with a quiet resolve. “Just stay right here with me, okay, Quentin?” She crouches beside him, one hand on his shoulder to keep him safely in his chair, the other holding his hand tightly. “Help is on the way.”

Quentin nods again, gives her half a smile. “Thanks,” he breathes.

“You can thank me later,” she tells him, gripping his clammy hand in hers. “Stay with me,” she tells him, ruthlessly ignoring the dread in her gut. “Just stay with me.”

 

& & &

 

John knows as soon as he sees Dinah sitting in a waiting room chair, staring vacantly into the middle distance. Her hands are clenched together in her lap, her knees jiggling nervously.

 _Quentin_.

John’s lost too many comrades in arms to misread her reaction. Still, it’s hard to make himself keep moving through the sudden onset of shocked grief. He reaches for Lyla’s hand and squeezes it tight, drawing strength from her calm, empathetic support.

Oliver and Felicity are right behind him, but Curtis and Rene stayed with the kids in the bunker. They should’ve come, but this -- this outcome wasn’t something any of them considered.

“Dinah,” John says, soft and easy, but it still startles her.

She blinks back to the present, her gaze skipping from his face to Oliver’s to Felicity’s and back. “Oh.” Dinah pushes herself up, mouth tight. When her hands fall to her sides, there’s crumpled blue silk trailing from her right hand. She looks down, surprised, like she didn’t remember she was holding Quentin’s tie. “They took it off of him,” she explains in a dull monotone. “In the ambulance.”

Beside John, Felicity gasps. She claps a hand over her mouth and shakes her head, denying the possibility. Oliver loops an arm around her and pulls her close.

They all know now, but John learned the hard way that the big things -- death and loss and grief -- they need to be voiced aloud. But he doesn’t make Dinah say it. “Quentin died?” he asks.

Dinah nods numbly. “Heart attack.”

From the corner of his eye, John sees the air go out of Oliver, sees him slump, head dropping forward. Felicity is already crying, her choked sobs muffled when she leans her face against her husband’s chest.

“It was quick,” Dinah adds, blinking rapidly. “He was only--” She shakes her head, presses her lips together. “He was only scared for a minute, and then--” Dinah brings her empty hand to her mouth.

Lyla presses closer to John, lending him some of her unyielding strength. “Oh,” John says quietly, holding firm against the grief collecting beneath his skin. He offers Dinah his hand. “Are you okay?”

Drifting towards them, Dinah shrugs and gives a damp, sad little chuckle. “Not really.”

John nods. “We should go,” he tells her. “We need to tell Rene.”

Dinah’s expression crumples briefly, and there are tears on her cheeks when she nods. “You’re right. We should...” She has to take a moment to regain control. “We should go.”

And so they turn to leave the hospital, John with a comforting arm around Dinah and his wife’s hand clasped tightly in his. They follow Oliver and Felicity in a solemn procession, unsure how to navigate such an unexpected loss.

 

& & &

 

Eventually, the team and their families end up sitting around the large, glass conference table in a strange, still silence. JJ dozes against Lyla’s chest, and William and Zoe are engrossed in a video game Felicity set up for them on one of her monitors. But the others sit in a haphazard circle, speaking only occasionally in hushed tones, and mostly avoiding eye contact.

John, Lyla, Rene, and Oliver have glasses of whisky, while Felicity, Dinah, and Curtis opted for red wine despite the bunker’s inexcusable -- Felicity’s words -- lack of proper wine glasses.

They sit, sipping absently at their drinks, catching each other’s gazes on occasion, trying to wrap their minds around the colossal loss of Quentin Lance.

It’s Oliver who breaks the silence, finally, when he realizes that everyone is waiting for him. Not to remain stoic and stiff, but to help them figure out how to begin to grieve. He has lost too many people, but each loss has taught him a little more about how to be compassionate in mourning, how to _share_ grief with the other people in his life who are hurting, so that the pain starts to ease.

He sits up a little straighter in his chair and says, “I wouldn’t be the man I am today without Quentin.”

The others turn their attention to him, while Felicity shifts in her seat beside him, her bad ankle propped up on his lap. She lifts a hand to his face, scratching his stubble for a moment before trailing down to rest just below his elbow. “Because he scared the hell out of you when you were dating his daughter?” she teases, her voice still rough from her earlier tears.

Oliver huffs a strangled little laugh, grateful as ever for his wife’s gift of humor. “Because of that, yes, but also because after I--” His throat tightens, and he swallows hard. “After I got back home, being able to win his trust--”

“ _Eventually,_ ” John comments under his breath, one eyebrow quirked in eloquent comment.

Accepting the interjection with a good-humored nod, Oliver says, “ _Eventually_ being able to win his trust was one of the best measures I had that I was slowly becoming the man I wanted to be.”

Across the glass table, Rene nods quietly. “He was a good man,” he says, grudgingly, because he is still more comfortable with anger than more vulnerable emotions. It’s something Oliver recognizes, because he, too, was that way after his years away. Of all the people sitting around this table mourning Quentin, Oliver’s the most concerned about Rene.

“He was a mentor,” Dinah adds, her voice still rough. “ _My_ mentor. The SCPD was better for his time there, and his example is what many of us try to measure ourselves against.”

The conversation continues in that vein -- they share stories, voicing their admiration for Quentin and their sadness that he’ll no longer be a part of their everyday lives.

When Rene launches into a long story about his first days at City Hall, sniffling and brushing away the occasional tear, Curtis slings an arm around his friend’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug.

Felicity leans into Oliver’s side, kissing his shoulder. “You built a pretty great team,” she murmurs.

While Oliver is hesitant to take any of the credit, he _is_ proud of the men and women in this room. He’s heartened to see them rallying for each other, supporting each other. They’ve lost a family member, but if they’re able to come together like this in their grief, Oliver knows they’ll all figure out a way to get through it. He sits back, holding Felicity’s hand and checking every few minutes on William and Zoe.

At some point, the stories about Quentin trail off into a hushed, reverent kind of quiet. 

Felicity sniffles beside Oliver, pushing her nearly empty glass away and rising to her feet. “I need a Kleenex,” she explains quietly. “And I need to call my mother.”

Oliver catches her hand gently. “I can call her if you want.”

Pausing, Felicity leans down and kisses him softly. “I should be the one,” she answers quietly. “Finish your drink.”

 

& & &

 

Burying herself in work has always been Felicity’s preferred method of dealing with big, scary, angry, or sorrowful emotions. So when she ends the heartbreaking conversation with her mother about Quentin’s death, she pauses only long enough to wash her puffy, tear-streaked face before diving into her searches for Darren McKnight.

Because today, he crossed the line. He went after their _children_ , and Felicity has apparently finished her transformation into a fierce mama bear, because she is _incandescent_ with righteous fury.

She’s really not getting anywhere when the sudden silence from Zoe and William registers. Felicity straightens and turns to the kids, who are ignoring the game they were playing and staring at the monitor tuned to local coverage. Which, Felicity sees, is showing Fred Wainwright speaking from the City Hall podium. And the chyron says--

“ _What_?” Felicity yelps. She activates the speakers.

“--my best as mayor,” Wainwright is saying. “I did not seek this out, nor are these tragic circumstances the way I would ever want to earn the honor of being your mayor, but--”

“ _He’s_ mayor now?” William scoffs.

“Ranking City Council member,” Felicity explains absently. “There’s no Deputy Mayor, because Quentin _was_ Deputy Mayor when Oliver resigned.” Her mind races as she considers this new information. She remembers Wainwright’s link to a corruption scheme they’d uncovered back in the fall. They’d never been able to find additional evidence to pin him to the wall through actual legal channels, but she _knows_ that he’s a dirty politician.

And he’d been the person directing that contractors wire kickbacks to a Caymans bank account, the owner of which they hadn’t been able to identify. Given Wainwright’s sudden promotion, maybe that bank account is worth another look.

When she opens the folder she’d created last autumn, she scans the file types, pausing on the video file. She goes cold remembering what they saw all those months ago. “Oliver!”

By the time he reaches her side, John and Lyla right behind him, she has the video footage running. She taps the screen beside the figure -- the dark-haired, handsome man they hadn’t recognized the last time they’d looked. “Doesn’t that look like--”

“Darren McKnight,” Oliver breathes. He leans closer, one hand on the back of her chair, and peers at the screen.

“I mean,” Felicity reasons, “the resolution is terrible, so we can’t be positive, but...”

John nods. “It sure looks like him.”

“So,” Felicity says, spinning her chair to face the adjacent monitor, “I guess it’s time for me to do a little more digging into that Caymans account.”

“Caymans account?” Lyla echoes curiously.

But Oliver is already ushering them away, leaving Felicity to her hacking while he fills them in on the background.

Felicity is in a groove, accessing and sifting information, copying everything to her encrypted cloud drive as she goes. Her plan is to set up complicated searches looking for links or patterns, but in the end, the key piece of information is just waiting for her, two bank transactions removed from the Caymans account.

And Oliver’s going to hate it.

 _Frak_.

 

& & &

 

When the team reaches the old Merlyn estate, Oliver has to take a moment.

It makes sense that Darren McKnight would acquire another important piece of Oliver’s childhood and use it as a home base for his assault on Oliver’s life. He’s wrestled with the fact that McKnight will _not_ stop coming after him. That plus the attack on the _kids_ has brought Oliver to terms with the idea that he may have to use lethal force on McKnight.

“Oliver?” It’s John, aloud and not on comms, stepping up beside Oliver to ask if he’s okay.

Taking a slow breath, Oliver nods. “I’m good.” He activates the comm on his chest. “Overwatch sees nearly twenty heat signatures. Wild Dog, Black Canary, left wing. Mr. Terrific, Spartan, right wing.”

“ _And you_?” Felicity asks over comms, her voice a comfort in his ear.

“Malcolm had a study on the second floor markedly similar to my dad’s,” he explains his hunch. “I’m heading there.”

It’s a hard slog to get to his destination.  

McKnight has security teams that converge as soon as Team Arrow breaches the mansion. More than half a dozen guards stream down the grand staircase Oliver and Tommy used to play on, and today, there’s no more holding their fire. These guys have submachine guns with live rounds.

Team Arrow fans out, Oliver vaulting over the decorative table near the foot of the stairs to use the balustrade as a defensive position. He kneels, nocks an arrow, and begins to fire.

Curtis is hit early on, taking a round to the shoulder. Kevlar saves it from being a penetrating wound -- instead, the impact rocks him back and leaves him gasping in pain. He still manages to pull a T-sphere free and hurl it up the stairwell.

A concussive blast sends about half of their attackers tumbling down the stairs, and John yells, “Break!” He loops an arm around Curtis and drags him off to the right, while Rene and Dinah head left. Oliver fires a grappling arrow into the high ceiling close to the skylight, and zips up, leaning into the swing of his body so he can hop over the carved wooden handrail and engage two armed guards in hand to hand combat.

It’s quick and brutal -- a hard kick followed by the swing of his bow to the first guy’s head. When the second man grabs Oliver from behind, he stabs a flechette into the man’s thigh, ducks and spins out of his grip, and lightly fires a sedative arrow into his neck. He pauses only long enough to sedate the first attacker before heading down the hallway looking for McKnight.

Oliver trusts the team to handle everything else.

 

& & &

 

Felicity has shifted to her wheelchair, since trying to move quickly with those stupid crutches is just an accident waiting to happen. And because of _course_ she’s kept her wheelchair -- her spinal injury is permanent, and she’d be a fool to think the biochip is failure proof. So in the event of a future recurrence of her paralysis, or for stupid temporary injuries like this one, her wheelchair is the most efficient mobility aid. 

Because she _totally_ rocks at using it. Still.

Anyway. Felicity is mostly staying in front of her three main screens, occasionally checking in with William and Zoe, who are _supposed_ to be playing a game or watching TV, but are mostly following along with the team’s progress via Felicity’s monitors.

She squints at the screen and winces. “Canary, watch out on your left.”

“Uh, Felicity?” Zoe asks, sounding tentative.

Felicity shoots a distracted smile at the kids. “Can it wait a bit?"

“I guess,” Zoe says, even as William chimes in with, “I don’t think so.”

“Wild Dog, keep going -- you want the third door on the left. Two heat signatures inside.” Felicity spares a quick glance for her stepson. “What can’t wait?”

William points at the live news monitor, and Felicity shifts her attention. Then her eyes go very wide and she spins away from her monitors to wheel closer. “Oh, frak, oh, frak,” she mutters to herself, then whips her head around to the kids. “Don’t repeat that at school or anything, okay? It’s not _exactly_ a swear, but it’s _kind of_ a swear? Or at least--”

“Felicity,” William interrupts gently, eyebrows raised.

“Right.” She activates the comms. “Green Arrow, we have another problem.”

“ _I’m still--_ ” There’s the sick sound of a punch landing-- “ _dealing with_ this _problem_ ,” Oliver answers, all mid-fight gruffness.

“Okay,” Felicity says, “but the news has a very clear picture and a _video_ of you earlier at the safehouse. No hood in sight, but a full quiver of arrows on your back and a big old bow in hand, so--”

“ _Overwatch_ ,” Oliver interrupts. “ _Where’s the Master_?”

With an annoyed huff, Felicity wheels back to her monitors. “Three figures are towards the back of the house, moving back and forth.” She tilts her head, reconsidering. “Is there a staircase in the back left?”

“ _Got it_ ,” Oliver says. “ _We’ll deal with the other thing later_.”

 

& & &

 

Oliver slows as he reaches the door that leads onto the roof and the old patio that stretches along the center. He remembers summers spent on that rooftop patio with Tommy and any number of girls willing to spend their evenings with the two of them, all giggles and feigned interest in their pathetic peacocking. His heart pounds and his palms grow sweaty.

This is the last place Darren McKnight could be, and Oliver’s feet feel too heavy to push him forward.

“ _What’s the hold up, Green Arrow_?” Felicity asks, voice low and etched with concern.

He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”

“ _He’s there. Waiting_.”

“I know.”

“ _I’m with you_ ,” she says with confidence that builds him up from his uncertainty. Not by much, but just enough for him to nock an arrow onto his bow and kick the door open. He hears Felicity’s light laughter and then she says reassuringly, “ _There’s my hero_.”

Moonlight rains down on the patio. Long ago, there had been furniture scattered about and lights strung up. Now, there is nothing.

Nothing, but one man.

“Taken you long enough, Oliver,” McKnight taunts. “I almost believed you had chickened out.”

“Not a chance,” Oliver replies calmly.

“Good.”

Oliver trains the arrow on McKnight. “This could all end easily… quietly.”

“Now, now, Oliver. We both know that is an impossibility,” McKnight says with a contemptuous laugh. “And put that thing away. I have a keen interest to see how you stand against me, hand to hand.”

“Why?” Oliver lowers the bow slightly, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You’ve been trained by the League of Assassins, and I by the Court of Owls’ most elite fighters. I’m interested to see how a Shadow stands against a Talon.”

Oliver tosses his bow aside, a dull ache springing to the forefront as he does so, as if he’s lost a piece of himself. Fists raised. Legs bent. An arrowhead hidden in his right palm. “I am no Shadow,” he growls. “I’m the Green Arrow.”

McKnight laughs, stance easy and relaxed. “Cute. I’ll remember that when your family asks what happened to you.”

“ _What a dick-bag_ ,” Felicity groans through the comms.

Oliver shakes off her voice and focuses in on McKnight. He moves fast, like lightning and rushes forward with a leap, open palm slamming down upon McKnight only to land on his upraised arms. A wall of bone and flesh, shrouded in that signature dark coat. The contact sets the outrageous flash off, blinding and deafening all at once. But the moment his feet hit the ground, Oliver is assaulted by a volley of blows that land all over his body: arms, chest, face. Unrelenting. As if McKnight is unaffected by the trick flash bag arrow.

He moves backward with each battering of the fists. It has been so long since he had a true hand to hand fight, and it is showing. The distortion of the flash dissipates just as Oliver stumbles backwards from a powerful blow and falls onto the patio floor. McKnight wastes no time to close in and unleash a powerful kick to Oliver’s stomach. Nothing breaks, but the breath escapes his mouth in a grunt with the force. Another kick lands, this one focused on his legs, and his bad knee creaks as a painful surge shoots through his leg, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Is this all you have, Queen? Is this all the famed Ra’s al Ghul could teach you? To take more damage than you can deal?” When Oliver struggles to answer, McKnight spits at the ground beside his head and then sneers, “Pathetic.”

Oliver opens his eyes just in time to see McKnight making a move to kick once more and all he can think of is a fight he experienced in the Brotherhood -- the Bratva -- and he reacts similarly. Still prone, he grasps onto McKnight’s incoming boot and twists until the man is prone next to him. With the advantage, Oliver swings himself up and screams, the pain searing through him already, as if he’s never endured a beating before. He lands atop McKnight the moment he hits the ground and begins his own assault.

He wraps McKnight in a tight hold, legs encircling legs and arms gripping neck, trying to cut off circulation and air flow. At first, it seems to be working, but then McKnight lets out a gurgling, choked laugh and then hisses, “This will ruin your son.”

The words are like a battering ram that sends Oliver up and away from his adversary, head shaking in denial. “You don’t know my son.”

McKnight stands with a cough. “I know enough to see the signs. Your mission is destroying him from the inside out. The worry. The uncertainty. The _violence_. Right now your son is just coasting by, relying on your wife to stay afloat. But what if she’s gone? What if that light is gone?"

“Are you threatening my wife?” Oliver shouts.

“Haven’t I done that already? Or have you not been paying attention?” McKnight begins circling Oliver, hands swinging at his sides in an easy, almost nonchalant way. As if they weren’t just in the midst of a fight with McKnight on the receiving end of a strangle hold. “If we rid the world of your precious Felicity, the resentment will build and build within your son.”

With each word, the world around them comes into focus. Oliver can hear the shouts of injured men and the echoing pops of gunfire. It is clear Felicity has muted the team’s comms so he can focus, but he wishes he knew how they were faring.

“Do you truly think the life you’ve built can last?” McKnight asks, eyes locked onto Oliver, calculating and intense.

Oliver shrugs. “It was going fine until you showed up.”

“I’ve come to have what is rightfully mine.”

“And that is… what exactly?”

“Revenge,” McKnight says, straight and matter-of-fact.

Oliver shakes his head and begins stepping backwards. He knows his bow is there, just a few feet behind him, and McKnight is in the perfect spot to tumble off the roof if an arrow sinks into his body.

“ _Let him keep monologuing_ ,” Felicity whispers through the comms. “ _You have time_.”

Oliver stares McKnight down. “What’s the point of revenge, McKnight?”

McKnight laughs and does a small line of pacing before facing Oliver once again. “You should know the answer to that. You’ve killed for revenge. You’ve done numerous things in the name of revenge.”

The words send Oliver down a spiral of his past. The list. The many arrows coated in blood and families torn apart. All of his righteous anger and desire to honor his father only brought more pain and destruction to his own life. It all meant nothing in the end. “It never helped how I felt,” he admits to McKnight. “It only made me feel worse.”

“Only because you lost your edge.”

“No. It is because I have people in my life who have made me feel better than any amount of revenge ever could.” He takes another step back with these words, eyes still trained on McKnight. The other man does not move, simply listens. “I lost a lot and it was never justified, but that gave me a chance to gain more.”

For a moment it looks as though the necessity of the bow is null, but then McKnight shakes his head and a twist of anger distorts his features. “I tried that route, Queen. And I still lost everything.” McKnight takes a step forward, coat swinging and fingers snapping in an easy anticipation of the fight to continue. “I’m done playing the good guy.”

Before McKnight can make any further movements, Oliver takes the last step backward and kicks his bow up and into his hand, bow already ripped from the quiver and nocked in the span of a breath. The arrow soars and tears through McKnight’s coat and into his chest, centermast. And then Oliver nocks and releases another arrow. One after the other, they sink into McKnight and propels him backward until he slips off the edge with a surprised cry.

Oliver grips the bow tight with a grappling arrow nocked and rushes to the edge, ready to jump.

 

& & &

 

Felicity watches the heat signatures with dread. _Still so many of them._

She switches her attention to the rooftop just as Oliver’s signature drops from the roof in pursuit of McKnight’s and feels confusion eating away at her resolve. “How is he not dead from those arrows?” Seven arrows in total and a fall from the top of a mansion and he is still moving, waiting for Oliver to join him.

She begins to type and dives into the dark web with ease, eyes darting from article to article in search of an answer. The Court of Owls trained McKnight with their elite group called the Talons, that Felicity knew for sure. “Am I missing something?” she mumbles as she types.

She has one option. One longshot. One name. If the Court of Owls keeps their main focus in Gotham, they have to be known to one person.

_Oracle._

 

& & &

 

Oliver lands in what once was the Merlyn gardens. He remembers the flowers and fountains that once took up most of the space, now just empty planters and moss covered basins, overgrown with weeds and time’s progression. McKnight is already standing and slowly ripping the arrows from his body. At seven arrows penetrating his flesh, he should already be bleeding out, especially with the extraction leaving the wounds open. But he simply closes his eyes as he pulls them out, low hisses and grunts escaping his lips.

Oliver nocks a new arrow and aims it at McKnight’s skull as he is focused in on the last shaft protruding from his belly. The new arrow flies across the gardens and, right before it lands in the flesh of his temple, McKnight raises his arm and allows the sharp edge to sink into his forearm. As he rips it out he sneers at Oliver. “Really? Did the League teach you to keep using the same methods even if they have already failed?”

He smirks. “It isn’t the same method.” As the words leave his mouth he presses a button built into his glove and a crackling electric current bursts from the shaft of the arrow, locking McKnight in place starting at his fingertips. Oliver keeps the current flowing for a few more seconds as he rushes forward, then presses the button once more before jumping up, boot landing in the center of Mcknight’s chest. But McKnight, despite being electrocuted, is ready and grasps Oliver’s boot and twists it. His ankle creaks but he pushes himself with the direction of the twist before any damage can be implemented, then tumbles to the ground. He rolls into a crouch and shoots another arrow, this one emitting a gray smoke as it soars through the air to imbed in one of the empty fountains.

The smoke billows through garden and casts strange shadows throughout. Oliver’s crouch is low, keeping him from McKnight’s gaze. He begins to inch forward to the looming shadow in the place McKnight was last seen. He can hear his breathing and the quick snapping of Mcknight’s fingers, drawing closer… luring him in. He circles around and lunges forward, arrow outstretched. Upon contact, he stabs the arrow into flesh, then shifts it up to sink into the throbbing space of a jugular.

But it is not Darren McKnight.

As he fights through the smoke, he sees the panicked face of one of the many men McKnight released onto the team. Hands clasped around his neck. Blood spilling between his fingers like crimson sand. Gasping for air. Gurgling out pleas.

Oliver shakes his head. “No… No, no, no! I am so sorry!”

He stares at the man until he goes still and his pleading eyes go vacant and glassy. Then he hears it. The snapping of fingers and a taunting laugh behind him. Mere inches behind him. “Oh, Oliver Queen. Always the guilt-ridden hero.”

With a scream, Oliver lurches up and swings his bow around to connect with McKnight’s jaw. It lands but does little to set him off balance. But he continues his battering. Swing after swing. Blow after blow. The weapon pounds against shoulders and hands, neck and chest. The smoke dissipates and the world opens up.

“What if that had been William? Or your precious Felicity?”

“Shut up!”

“What if it had been anyone on your team?”

“I said…” Oliver rocks backward to avoid a punch and then drops down, leg extended out to trip McKnight. The man tumbles into a crouch, sick smile on his face. “Shut up!”

“I’m just speaking the truth, Oliver.”

A shot rings out and echoes off the stonework scatter throughout the garden. A grunt reverberates from a throat behind Oliver and a body slams into him, limp but still breathing. Oliver helps it down onto the ground and turns to find the source of the tranquilizing shot. Through a window in what was once the library, Diggle shakes his head, then mouths, “Thank me later.”

Oliver nods before turning back to McKnight.

He is closer now than Oliver anticipates, reaching out to rip the bow from his grasp. It clatters to the ground and the sound mixes with the swift thump of McKnight’s foot colliding with Oliver’s skull.

He falls to the ground. Dazed. Dizzy.

A boot lands on his left shoulder and presses down just as a hand grasps his wrist and tugs his arm upwards. When he opens his eyes he sees McKnight looming over him with a face so muted and unfeeling that the pain is replaced, just for a moment, with fear. _This man has no qualms. He will kill me._

Oliver’s shoulder pops and the pain returns, searing through his body until it gives in to numbness. _Dislocation._

He screams and with a desperate surge of energy, thrusts his legs up and grabs McKnight’s neck for momentum and flips up until he has him pinned. His left arm hangs limp at his side, useless. With his other, he slides a new arrow from the quiver and stabs it through McKnight’s eye before he can do anything to stop it.

McKnight simply laughs. “I am not Slade Wilson.”

With excruciating slowness McKnight rips the arrow from his own skull, eye now a mess of gore in a darkened socket. He tosses the weapon aside and struggles to free himself but Oliver keeps him secured.

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity says through the comms, voice frantic. “ _I know how to kill McKnight!_ ”

“Tell me!” he hisses into his mic.

“ _The Court of Owls, specifically the Talons, utilize a chemical and metal alloy to maintain a guise of immortality and McKnight is using that._ ”

“Oh, you don’t say…”

McKnight laughs. “Is that Smoak? Isn’t it sweet to hear the voice of the one you love before you die?” He continues to struggle against Oliver’s legs and hand, to no avail. Blood drips from his ruined eye, streaking his face like tears.

Felicity continues reciting her information. “ _It is in the shape of a false tooth. With it intact, he will continue to recuperate at an accelerated rate. You have to dislodge it or he_ will _kill you, Oliver._ ”

“I don’t have much strength left,” he says to both Felicity and McKnight. His ruined arm has lost all feeling and his legs are aching from the exertion. A few more seconds and he will lose everything.

From his belt he retrieves a tranq dart and stabs it into McKnight’s neck. His efforts to escape become less violent… softer, like the brushing away of an insect. “This won’t last long. What’s your move?” he slurs.

Without a word, Oliver grabs one last arrow and thrusts it into McKnight’s mouth, staking him into the ground. McKnight’s faculties begin to return and he struggles against Oliver’s hold, frantic and -- finally -- fearful. His remaining eye is wide and a tear wells up to line his lashes before trickling down. The beeping of the explosive charge begins.

_One._

Oliver stands up and cradles his dislocated arm, boots securing McKnight’s hands to the ground.

_Two._

McKnight says something but it is a garbled, distorted mess around the arrow. When his words fail him, he simply begins to laugh.

_Three._

Oliver jumps away at the last moment. The blast echoes off the stone and deafens him. The impact and the wind from the explosion pushes against him and he keeps his eyes closed. _I had to do it,_ he tells himself. _I had no strength left. I couldn’t hold him down anymore._

“ _Oliver… Did you just…_ ”

The truth hits before the debris settles.

“It’s done.”

_But at what cost?_

 

& & &

 

It’s been such an exhausting night that Felicity is way too tired to balance on crutches once the adrenaline crash hits. She stays in her wheelchair, wheeling around to greet the team with a relieved excitement as they trudge into the bunker. She scans her husband’s form, wincing when she sees the makeshift sling holding his left arm still against his chest.

Oliver meets her gaze and gives her a small nod and smile, then holds out his right arm for William to come crashing into him, wincing when it jostles his injured arm. “It’s okay,” Oliver tells his son. “You’re safe. I’m fine.”

Felicity watches them, her hands folded together and pressed to her chest. _Her family is safe_. She breathes a little easier, loosening the tension in her joints. She glances at the rest of the team, where a similar reunion is taking place with Rene and Zoe.

John limps up to the computer dais, holding hands with Lyla. Felicity gestures towards his right arm. “How’d the biochip hold up?”

Lifting his _formerly_ bad arm, John flexes his fingers. “Worked great, Felicity.” He steps closer and leans down to give Felicity a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Overwatch.”

She beams up at him. “Any time, Spartan.” Her smile fades a little, and she lowers her voice. “How is he?”

John grows somber. “It was pretty rough there at the end. He’s going to need you.”

She’d figured as much. “Thanks, John.”

“Any time, Overwatch,” he says, echoing her words.

Lyla glances up at her husband and tells Felicity, “ARGUS is taking over cleanup duty at Merlyn’s old place from SCPD.”

Felicity wrinkles her nose, still more than a little wigged out at the method Oliver had employed to kill McKnight. “I guess that’s good. Fewer questions.”

“And we,” Lyla adds, “are going to bring JJ home.” They move towards the living area of the bunker, where Raisa has been watching the little boy.

Felicity turns her attention back to her husband and stepson. William is towing Oliver to her side, to Oliver’s amusement. Like he’s ever been reluctant to invade her personal space. “Thanks, bud,” he says, then kneels in front of Felicity’s wheelchair with a grimace, placing his gloved hand on her knee. “You okay?” he asks.

Leaning forward, Felicity cups his scruffy face in her hands. “I am now.” Oliver surges up and kisses her. It’s a good kiss -- it always is, with them, but this kiss is especially memorable. Tenderness and relief and homecoming.

Beside them, William makes a noise of disgust, and Oliver laughs against her mouth before pulling back. Felicity scans her husband critically, taking in the tightness around his mouth, the tension in his shoulders, and the haunted look in his eyes. “How injured are you?” she asks worriedly.

“I’m fine,” he says, but he’s lying. She tilts her head, lifting an accusatory eyebrow, and he shrugs. “A little banged up.” He’s purposefully limiting his response to his physical state, but Felicity is willing to let that go for the moment, considering they’re not alone.

She runs a finger lightly along the sling holding his arm. “And this?”

“Dislocated shoulder,” Oliver admits. “But I popped it back in already.”

Felicity makes an _about to hack_ face, because-- “Gross!” She shakes it off. “Do you need me to call Dr. Schwartz?”

“No,” he says. “It’s nothing permanent, and nothing a few days rest and some ice packs won’t heal.”

Still skeptical, Felicity hums. But Curtis clears his throat and steps up onto the computer dais. “Hey, hi,” he says with a nervous laugh. “That was -- _whew_ \-- but, I mean, we’re all still standing--” Curtis blanches with the realization that, even if he didn’t die in the fight, Quentin is gone. “I mean--”

“It’s okay, Curtis,” Oliver answers gently. “We know what you mean.”

“Yeah,” he answers, subdued now. “I think we’re going to go catch up with Dinah. She texted that she’s almost through with the, uh... the scene.” Waiting just at the bottom of the dais stairs are Rene and Zoe; he’s got his arm around her, and she’s leaning against her dad looking more than a little tired.

They exchange good nights, and then it’s just Oliver, Felicity, and William in the bunker. Felicity stretches a little, arching her back and rolling her shoulders. “I’m going to sleep _good_ tonight.”

With a groan, Oliver pushes himself to his feet. “I guess that means we should head home.”

“Yes.” Felicity brightens. “There are many ice packs there. Go change.”

Oliver smiles tiredly at her. “Give me five minutes.”

“We’ll be waiting.” As he walks away, Felicity turns a hopeful look to William. “Can you grab my crutches?”

 

& & &

 

Oliver is the first to rise the morning after the showdown with Darren McKnight. Surprisingly, he doesn’t remember any nightmares, and he managed nearly six hours of sleep, both of which he attributes to sheer exhaustion. But as soon as he wakes, he can’t stop himself from remembering the lengths he’d gone to. 

He doesn’t regret killing McKnight, but he could live without the reminders of the darkness that long ago rooted itself in his soul.

Despite the soreness in his bruised muscles and the angry ache in his knee, he rolls out of bed and gingerly pulls on his sling. Then he grimaces his way out to the kitchen.

He’s two NSAIDs and half a cup of coffee into his morning, and making breakfast for his family when Felicity crutches out of their bedroom, wobblier than usual in her uncaffeinated state. There’s a warm pang of affection in his chest as she walks into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and curling forward to press her face to his chest. She’s careful to leave space between their bodies for his injured arm. “Morning,” she says, the word muffled by his henley.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

“How’s your _everything_?” she shoots back, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“You’re safe. William’s safe,” Oliver answers. “I can deal with the rest of it.” He’s not lying, but the confrontation with Darren McKnight took a lot out of him -- physically _and_ emotionally. He’s worried that he’s awaked some demons that will require a lot of time and energy to slay. Which is why he lets himself revel in the feel of Felicity’s embrace -- she’s always been the beacon guiding him out of his darkest moments. If he’s lucky, she’ll be able to help him heal from what he’d done to end the threat posed by Darren McKnight.

There’s a surprisingly loud knock at the door, and Felicity frowns up at him. “Have I binge-watched too much _Buffy_ , or did you just accidentally summon a demon?”

Oliver carefully shifts Felicity so she can lean back against the island, then heads to the door. When he opens it, there are two SCPD officers with grim expressions at the door. Dread pools in his gut. “Good morning,” he says. “Can I help you?”

“Oliver Queen,” recites the small-statured man with _OFFICER SARNACCIA_ on his nametag, “you’re going to need to come downtown with us.”

Oliver blinks. “I’m sorry -- what is this about?”

“Yeah,” Felicity chimes in, crutching closer, “why do you need to talk to my husband?”

Sarnaccia exchanges a sour look with his taller partner. “Look, we’re trying to be respectful here, but you need to come with us.”

“He has rights,” Felicity says, her hand gripping his bicep. “So unless you’re _arresting_ him, he doesn’t _have_ to go anywhere with you.”

Sarnaccia gives Felicity a smug look. “Okay,” he tells her, then turns back to Oliver. “Oliver Queen, I’m placing you under arrest of the murder of Darren McKnight.”

Felicity’s fingers dig into his arm. “What?”

Oliver shakes his head, like he must have heard them wrong. “Murder?” he asks.

From behind them, Oliver hears the sound of William’s bedroom door rolling open. “Dad? What’s going on?” He moves to Oliver’s side, asking questions in a scared voice.

Oliver reaches for Felicity’s hand. “Hon, I’m going to go with the officers, but can you please call Jean Lohring?”

“Of course,” she answers, clinging tightly to his hand and throwing intermittent glares at the officers.

“Dad?"

Oliver turns, beckoning William forward. Eyeing the officers warily, William moves directly into Oliver’s one-armed embrace for a reassuring hug.

William pulls back a little to ask, “What’s going on?”

“There’s some kind of misunderstanding,” Oliver explains. “I’m going to go try to straighten it out.” Felicity steps closer, placing herself between Oliver and the police officers. He appreciates her unwavering bravery, but will not let her be hurt. “Felicity,” he murmurs.

There are tears in her eyes when she lifts her chin, and he knows she feels the same kind of trepidation that he does about _whatever_ this. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Over her shoulder, Sarnaccia takes a deliberate step into the apartment. “We don’t have all day.”

Oliver makes eye contact and nods. “Just let me say goodbye to my family.” Felicity presses her lips together and looks away.

“No, Dad.” William’s arms tightens around Oliver’s waist, and he presses against Oliver’s bad arm enough to make his shoulder pulse with pain.

Oliver ignores his own pain to offer his son what comfort he can. “Be good for Felicity until I get back, okay?”

William sniffles, but refuses to cry. “Okay,” he manages.

Turning to his wife Oliver says, “Hey.”

She swipes a hand under her eye and leans into him, tilting her head back to kiss him softly. She wavers a bit on her crutches, and Oliver steadies her before stepping away and following the officers into the hallway.

He refuses to look back over his shoulder for one last look at his family. He refuses to give in to the fatalism underlying that urge.

Later, he’ll regret his decision.

 

& & &

 

Instead of shock or surprise, all Oliver feels when Samandra Watson strolls into the interrogation room is a muted kind of resignation. “Of course,” he says in greeting

Watson slides into the seat across from him and folds her hands together on the table. “Mr. Queen,” she says. “I knew we’d end up here eventually, but it took longer than I expected.”

He figures this must tie back to the viral picture and video Felicity mentioned in the middle of the chaos yesterday. He and John hadn’t stopped to change into their suits, choosing instead to race to the safehouse in their street clothes. In broad daylight.

Given that their _children_ were in direct danger, he can’t find it in himself to regret his choices, even if it lands him in prison for the rest of his life.

He inhales slowly. “What do you want?”  

Watson tilts her head, watching him closely. “We have eyewitness testimony and photographic evidence that you, Mr. Queen, are the Green Arrow. That, plus an extensive circumstantial case that would involve your wife, your friend John Diggle, and the rest of your team.” A beat, then, “Rene Ramirez, Curtis Holt, and SCPD’s own Dinah Drake.”

Oliver stares back at her, silent, as is his right. But his heart is hammering in his chest -- he will not allow any of his team to do the time that should rightfully be his.

“Or,” Watson says, letting the possibility dangle between them.

He holds out as long as he can, determined not to play Samandra Watson’s game.

But eventually, Oliver breaks. “Or _what_?”

 

& & &

 

Felicity clings to William’s hand as they wait in the small public area of SCPD headquarters for some news of Oliver. Jean Lohring sent an associate at her firm immediately, since she’s in court, but Felicity still has a very bad feeling about _all_ of this 

She lurches to her feet when she sees her husband, hands cuffed behind him, being led in their general direction. Her ankle protests, the pain spiraling up her leg, but she barely notices. “Oliver!” She is torn between relief at seeing him and spitting anger that they’ve ignored his injured shoulder and wrenched his bad arm behind his back to cuff his wrists together. He’s pale and a little sweaty, and she _knows_ he must be in a ton of pain.

Beside her, William stands, too, holding her crutches for her but his attention, too, is focused on Oliver being frogmarched by stone-faced uniformed cops. There are two men and a woman in suits, badges clipped discreetly to their belts, plus the District Attorney, and -- Samandra Watson. Just behind Oliver is his Jean’s associate, who studiously avoids Felicity’s gaze.

Her heart sinks.

When Oliver reaches the small lobby area, he slows down, holding Felicity’s gaze with a regretful look. “Felicity, I’m sorry. I love you.” Her stomach knots with fear, and she grabs her crutches with some half-formed idea that she can rescue him from _whatever_ this is.

William gets there first, hugging his father and temporarily halting the progress of the group. Oliver’s voice is rough with emotion. “William, buddy, I’m sorry about all this. I love you so much.”

An officer gently pulls William back, and Felicity crutches to her stepson’s side, torn between comforting the boy and _demanding_ that Oliver explain what is going on right now. But the way Oliver is looking at her, like he’s trying to memorize her face -- it freezes her in place. Because they’ve been here before, _too_ many times.

Oliver smiles sadly. “I love you,” he says again, and then he’s ushered past her and right out the door.

Felicity remains frozen for a long moment, until William touches her arm. “Felicity?”

She gives a jerky nod, then she and William rush to catch up. Her crutches slow her down, so by the time they make it out onto the steps of the SCPD headquarters, Oliver has reached the sidewalk and is swarmed by members of the media.

“--one thing to announce,” Oliver says, his voice strong and sure. “I am the Green Arrow.”

“ _What_?” Felicity breathes, eyes wide. She pulls William to her side, not quite understanding the shape of the danger they’re now facing, but knowing something is coming.

Oliver glances over his shoulder at her and William, and then the officers create a break in the press scrum. They lead Oliver to a squad car and open the door, pushing him inside. Even through the crush of the press surrounding the car and the bulletproof windows, Felicity can see Oliver watching them until the car pulls away.

There’s a strange, unnerving beat of quiet, and then the press turns their attention to Felicity and William.

“Oh, frak,” Felicity says, steadying herself on her crutches. The press isn’t the only threat to her family, but they are the most immediate, and Felicity has just become a single parent.

So she takes a breath and takes her stepson’s hand. “William, we have to go. _Now_!”

 

**END ALTERNATIVE SEASON SIX**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining us on this ride!


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